Breathe In, Breathe Out
by sdbubbles
Summary: When Hanssen and Serena wake to find themselves the victims of the night from hell, can they accept they are no exception to the fragility of human nature? "We push and pull, and I fall down sometimes, but I'm not letting go, you hold the other line." - "Breathe In, Breath Out" by Mat Kearney.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I don't know where this originated - or what twisted part of my imagination came up with it - but it's more sinister than I would usually write anything, so I hope you can forgive me for putting them through the wringer like I'm about to! I would appreciate opinions on this, as it's so different to my normal writing.**

**Sarah x**

* * *

The last thing she remembered when she woke was her hand colliding with his face with all the force could muster. She remembered being angry enough to break his scrawny neck, never mind just slap him. After that, everything was dark. She had fallen asleep soon after, or else been knocked out.

She remembered the voices behind her, thinking nothing of them as her anger with the man before her had grown exponentially. She remembered dismissing everything but herself and the man in front of her as irrelevant. But the voices had drawn closer with every time she had talked over him, and she realised now she had underestimated the number of them.

Now she realised, locked in the darkness, why he had been trying to interrupt her. He had not been arguing back with her as she had thought, but had actually been trying to warn her of the danger she now knew had been just feet behind her.

"Mr. Hanssen," she whispered. She heard a low groan from a few feet to her right and crawled over, feeling around for his body; that small action hurt her legs so much more than she had anticipated. She felt his flat stomach and moved her hands up until she found his face. On his cheek, her fingers met a sticky wetness she assumed was blood and her stomach turned, realising she had probably been the cause of that particular injury. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," he said; he heard him shuffling himself upright. "Yes, I'm fine, Ms. Campbell. Are you?"

"Headache from hell," she admitted, realising her head was throbbing. She felt her head and found a cut on the back of it, her fingers sticky with half-dried blood. "Someone's smacked me over the head, I think."

"I remember someone hitting me across the face. It's the last thing I can recall," he informed her. Through the darkness she heard him struggle to his feet.

"Yeah," she answered, a pang of guilt hitting her suddenly. Why did she feel bad for doing something she had wanted to do for months? "Yeah, that was me. I didn't realise I drew blood," she confessed. She felt his glare boring through her. She didn't need to see him to know it. "You pissed me off!" she defended herself. "What did you expect me to do?!"

"I expect you to act like a professional grown woman rather than a bratty adolescent schoolgirl."

She made a face in his general direction, miffed that he was angry with her. "Aren't there more pressing matters right now?" she reminded him. "Like, oh, I don't know...getting the fucking hell out of here?!" she shouted at him. She felt around for her bag, and in her coat pocket for her phone, but found nothing.

"Calm yourself, Ms. Campbell," he said placidly.

"I am calm," she retorted, but it was a huge lie. Panic was bubbling away inside of her, threatening to show Hanssen just how frightened she was at finding herself in the dark, in pain with little to no recollection of how any of it came about.

"Your language suggests otherwise."

She rolled her eyes and walked around, feeling through the darkness for any hazards, but the room seemed fairly empty. She felt around the rough walls; they obviously had no paint or wallpaper on them, just bare brickwork. Her hands fell onto a button, and she wasn't sure of whether or not to press it. "There's a button here," she told him.

"Press it," he said decisively, his footsteps coming closer to her.

"But-"

He leaned over her and pushed her hand down, pressing the button underneath. There was a clunking noise as light flooded the room and a door rose, their hands still on the button. This was obviously a garage of some sort, but there was very little inside.

The light hurt Serena's eyes and head, so she put her free hand over her eyes, extremely aware of Hanssen's body against hers. It caused her rather a lot of pain. Her back must have been bruised, for whatever reason. "How odd," Hanssen said. "We appear to have been dumped in a disused garage."

"No shit, Sherlock," she retorted.

"I will put that down to you being hit over the head," he raised an eyebrow at her as he lifted his hand from hers. She noticed a bruise on his face – not the side she had slapped – and another on his temple. He had also been hit on the head, then.

She looked down on herself and was horrified. Her blouse was torn down the arm from the collar, buttons missing, the side of her trousers ripped, the button on the waistband missing. A wave of fear like she had never felt before fell over her as she fingered the black material of her waistband lightly. She looked up at Hanssen and saw her horror reflected in his dark eyes. "You don't think..."

"Are you in any pain?" he asked her.

Catching the meaning behind his words, she replied in what was barely more than a mumble, "A little." His face drained white but he remained calm and strong.

"I would _not_ have allowed it," he promised her. "I promise you, Ms. Campbell, I would have done anything and everything in my power to prevent that."

"But you were knocked out," she reminded him. "We were both knocked out!" He would have been powerless to do anything to anyone after he was rendered unconscious, so how could he promise her that?

"There was obviously a struggle," he reasoned. "Perhaps you, being your normal charming self, put up more of a fight than I did, and therefore received more of a beating. That, and we were clearly unceremoniously dumped in here. Who knows how they got us in here?"

Her whole body was sore. Aching. There were bruises on her wrists and arms, and she could feel one forming on her neck and one on her chest. Her back was probably covered in them, judging by the pain she had felt at Hanssen's touch. She didn't know where the aching stopped and began. Her whole body just _hurt_.

"I don't know," she replied, her voice coming out in a hoarse whisper. The seed of the fear was still there in her mind, growing with every second she couldn't remember what had happened. There were so many horrible theories going through her mind, and she couldn't rule anything out. "How can we be sure what's been done to us when we don't even know what's happened?"

He kept silent, lightly guiding her outside into the light. "Bloody typical," she groaned, rubbing her head as the full light of day hit her eyes. "The one time I go to a conference on my best behaviour, not a drop of alcohol, and I end up chucked in some Godforsaken garage, not knowing who has done what to me."

"We were at a conference," he echoed. "I remember that. It was about the integration of more general surgery into the emergency wards."

"Yeah," she replied vaguely as they wandered down the street without direction or purpose. Serena glanced up at Hanssen; he looked concussed, beat up and generally worse for wear. Kind of like how she felt. "We've got no money, no credit or debit cards, no mobile phones," she listed their problems as they sat down on a bench on the street. "We've both been hurt. God only knows what they did to me when I was out of it," she added. She hated how vulnerable she sounded in that moment.

"I'm sure they didn't do anything but take your belongings," he tried to reassure her, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something else had happened. "We will find a hospital and get checked over. That is the most important thing. Then we'll find a way home, we'll cancel our cards, deal with the police and everything will go back to normal."

She sighed and threw her head back, staring at the grey sky above, and gave him the harsh reality of their situation. "We are _so_ screwed."

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to review and tell me your thoughts!  
Sarah x**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews on the first chapter :) I'm glad you don't hate me for torturing Hanssen and Serena ;)**

**Sarah x**

* * *

It took them over an hour, but they eventually found A&E and the knowledge of what town they were in – Brighton. It made things easier and more difficult; at the moment, the task Hanssen was finding the most difficult task was keeping the unflappable Serena Campbell calm. She had grown more upset with every step they had taken towards the hospital.

As the nurse stitched his face, she asked, "Is there anyone we can call for you or your wife?"

"Ms. Campbell isn't my wife," he automatically corrected the young woman. "She's merely a colleague."

"Sorry," the brunette apologised. "I just assumed."

"It's alright," he assured her. "But no, thank you. I'm sure Ms. Campbell has had someone inform her daughter that we will be returning later than originally planned. Am I to assume you have contacted the police?" he added.

She nodded. "Two people come into the ED in that state, we've not got much choice." He didn't say he was a doctor, or that Serena was too, but let her continue. "The pair of you look pretty roughed up, like. What happened?"

"I have no idea," he sighed. "We argued on the street – Ms. Campbell and I are prone to disagreeing," he explained, and the nurse gave a small smile. "There were a few men at the other end of the street," he recalled. "After that..." he trailed off, not knowing what came next. It was an awful feeing, not knowing what had happened.

A doctor poked his head around the curtain and said, "Joanie, when you've finished stitching Mr. Hanssen up, can you arrange a gynae consult for the lady in cubicle seven? As soon as they can get themselves down here?" Joanie nodded and the doctor replied, "Thanks."

Cubicle seven. Serena.

"Is she alright?" he asked the doctor before he could leave. "Ms. Campbell? Is she alright?"

"You can see for yourself once Joanie's finished with you," the doctor smiled at him before leaving.

"Is she a friend?" Joanie asked, making small talk while she stitched, as nurses so often did.

"Not exactly," he smirked lightly. "Sparring partner, perhaps." Joanie gave a laugh at his view on Serena. "I'm sure she is a lovely enough woman. She just tends to...push my buttons," he admitted. He didn't know why he was explaining himself to a twenty-odd-year-old nurse he didn't even know. Perhaps it was out of politeness, or perhaps because someone was actually taking an interest in his feelings for once, instead of dismissing him as heartless.

"Ah," she grinned. "Which buttons are these?"

"She is ambitious to the point of insanity at times," he explained. "I never know where her loyalty lies. She's stepped over me to get what she wants before, and I'm sure she would happily do it again. She takes her emotions out on other people and then tries to pretend she doesn't feel a thing. It almost led to someone being formally disciplined for something that wasn't the girl's fault."

"So she's a riddle you can't solve, and that's what annoys you so much?" Joanie summarised for him, giving his cut – inflicted by Serena – one last clean. "You're very worried about her. You know, for someone you can't stand. Be back in a minute," she smiled, leaving him to ponder what she had said to him.

Gynae. It was the first thing he thought about; did this mean Serena's fears were founded, or were they only trying to appease her? She was, after all, a difficult woman to deal with. However, in Hanssen's medical experience, women tended to know their bodies; if they thought there was something wrong then there usually was.

The thought he had been powerless to help her sickened him.

"She's in cubicle seven," Joanie's voice called to someone, presumably the gynaecologist. "Well, that was easier than I thought it'd be," Joanie said happily. "Mrs. Adams was floating about the ED anyway so she said she'd have a look at your friend. It's normally a nightmare getting anyone from obs and gynae down here!"

Realisation flooded over Hanssen. "One of them was called Adam," he said, recalling the memory of the use of the name.

_A young man stood before him, shoulders squared threateningly, as Henrik stood between __the men and Serena. "You think you're a right old hard-nut, don't ya?" the man shouted. There was something not right about him – it was clear to Hanssen that he was either extremely drunk or, more likely, on drugs._

_ He reached and hit Hanssen on the back of the head, trying to provoke a reaction. "I am no hard-nut," he tried to reason. "I'm merely trying to protect my friend."_

_ "Yeah?" he shouted, getting up in Hanssen's face. "Well, your _friend_ needs to watch her fucking mouth!"_

_ "Yes, I'm aware Serena has an unfortunate habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time," Henrik agreed, hoping understanding would defuse the situation that was becoming increasingly heated. "__I find myself on the receiving end almost daily."_

_ "All I did was ask him to move out of the way," Serena groaned, and Henrik heard from her tone that she was rolling her eyes._

_ The man tried to dodge around Hanssen to get to Serena, who was the real target of his anger, but a friend of his warned, "Adam, __you heard what the DSI said. I__f you get arrested again..."_

_ "Shut up!" Adam shouted. "You're just as much of a stuck up pain in the arse as she is!" he roared at Hanssen. This was an overreaction Henrik was almost certain was down to the fact he was taking some kind of narcotics. As a doctor, it was blindingly obvious to him..._

"The one that started it all off was called Adam," he repeated, completely sure of it. "He was coked up to the eyeballs, by the look of him."

"What a surprise," Joanie sighed. "If we could bottle the effects of that rubbish, we'd have a weapon of mass destruction on out hands. Right, I'll tell the police that and then I'll get them to come and speak to you. OK?" Hanssen nodded. "Right, that's you all cleaned up, although you look like you've just done a round with Mike Tyson," she joked, coaxing a tiny smile out of Hanssen. She left him, and not long later the police came in.

Hanssen went through the motions, telling them why they were here and what little he could remember, his relationship with Ms. Campbell, where and what state they woke up in. "Now," Hanssen sighed. "Am I able to check on Ms. Campbell yet?"

"Yeah," the older police officer replied. "We've already got as much as we're gonna get out of her. I'll warn you now though, she's in some state."

He nodded in understanding and stepped out onto the main ward, searching for cubicle seven in a unit unfamiliar to him. This was not how he had planned to spend today. By the sound of it, they hadn't even made it back to their hotel last night. "She's over there," Joanie told him from the nurses' station, pointing at the corner cubicle. "Gynae's finished with her. She'll be needing you," she warned solemnly.

"Ms. Campbell," he called through the curtain. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah," she replied. When he stepped in, he saw exactly what Joanie had meant; the first thing he saw was that she had been crying, and, bar the occasion concerning her mother, Serena Campbell never cried.

"What have they said?" he asked cautiously. He was dreading the answer but he still wanted to know.

"Take a guess," she retorted. He felt his heart break a little at that harsh, bitter tone her voice had taken on, and the reason for it. "I feel sick."

He got up and handed her a kidney dish, and when she threw up he realised shock was taking her. He carefully rested a hand on her shoulder and said, "It's alright."

"Oh, yes, Mr. Hanssen," she snapped. "Just bloody brilliant, isn't it?!"

"That isn't what I meant, and you know it," he reminded her that she was just taking her hurt out on him, and that he was only trying to make her feel marginally better. She leaned back and he gave her a tissue so she could wipe her mouth, and poured her a drink of water.

"I don't need a childminder."

"You haven't got one," he retorted. "But since I'm not going anywhere without you, I might as well make an effort to be nice to you." She looked at him in surprise and he fell silent, feeling he had embarrassed them enough.

"I just want to go home and leave all this behind us," she moaned. Henrik was startled by her sudden helplessness; she was not a woman who just gave in and said "I want to go home." She usually stayed put until she won and got what she wanted.

He sat down in the chair next to her bed once more. "You know, Ms. Campbell, it isn't going to be as simple as just leaving it behind us."

"It's as simple as we make it," she snapped. Her temper was growing shorter by the second; Hanssen had a suspicion that she wouldn't be able to keep this act up for much longer. He had seen for himself the guise of anger she created when she was hurt, and he didn't much like it. It stopped him from being able to help her and left him no other choice but to fight her.

He just shook his head to himself. What a mess to get in. He hated that Serena had been right and that when he was knocked out he was in no position to help her. He hated that her protection had been taken out of his hands and that he had allowed her to be attacked in the worst way possible.

"How are we even going to get home?" she demanded. "Your car will be at the hotel – whichever one that may be – and you don't have the key anyway. And we have no money and no phone."

"Would you like to call someone from Holby to come and pick us up?" he suggested, but he didn't think she was going to like the idea.

"And let them see me like this? No chance," she dismissed the idea.

"You don't have to tell them what happened."

"_No_."

"Then we wait," he raised an eyebrow, knowing she would hate that idea even more than the first.

"Fine!" she sighed. "But not Michael. Or Ric. Or Chantelle. Her driving is awful." Hanssen suppressed a smile, having heard tales of the young nurse's unimproved driving skills. By all accounts she only just passed her test and no more. "What about Sacha? In my experience, he doesn't ask questions."

"His daughter is ill," he reminded her.

"Maconie?" she suggested, "Actually, no, I'd have to kill him. We might as well just stay here until we get it all sorted with the police, and we find the hotel we were in so we can get our stuff."

Hanssen remembered suddenly that, actually, they weren't in such a bad position. "I keep the spare key to my car in my bag. And some money. About fifty pounds or so."

"I never thought I'd be grateful for you and your OCD," Serena quipped. Hanssen gave a soft smile. She was deflecting, and they both knew it. Anything to avoid talking about it. "The sooner they discharge us, the better."

"Are you going to be alright?" Henrik dared to ask her. She glared at him, silently demanding to know why he gave a damn about her. "I hate to tell you this, but right now all we have is each other."

"Another reason I can't wait to get home. And I'll tell you something else," she warned. "_This_ stays between us. Got it?"

Understanding her need to keep her secrets, he nodded. "As long as you realise that you need hide nothing from me. You've been through a massive trauma and, to make it all worse, you don't remember how you were attacked. There is such a thing as being too strong," he asserted gently.

She turned to look him in the face, and he only hoped she could see that he really did care.

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to review and tell me your thoughts!  
Sarah x**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed! I'm _really_ not sure about this chapter, but decided to post it anyway.**

**Sarah x**

* * *

"Right," a cheerful young brunette nurse entered the cubicle, pulling the curtain behind her. "I have your discharge forms and I've phoned around, found the hotel you were staying in. You were sharing a twin room. Number 184. There are two police officers who said they'd take you up there – it's a fair old hike and you look like you could do without the walking."

"There was no need for you to do that," Serena sighed, shifting her weight slightly; her entire body was in pain. In a way, she was almost grateful for it. It was a much needed distraction. How long she could be distracted, though, was anyone's guess. She resolved to throw herself back into paperwork and elective hernias when she got back, but she didn't know if it would save her from having to acknowledge this trip that turned into a descent into hell.

"Thank you, Joanie," Hanssen dismissed Serena's narky comments as he took the clipboards.

"Not a problem," she smiled. "Oh, and Ms. Campbell, can I have a word, please? On your own?" she asked directly to Serena, who just groaned.

"I know what you're about to say. I've said it a hundred times myself, so let's get this clear. I don't need counselling, I don't need any support groups and if, and only if, I find I _do_ need it, I work in a hospital full of psych consultants who owe me favours," she laid down the law. Joanie looked slightly taken aback. "He didn't tell you we're doctors?" Serena demanded, her eyebrow sceptically raised.

"I didn't think it was relevant," Hanssen sighed. "Come on, sign your forms. I know you're itching to get out of here."

She snatched the clipboard and pen from him, not having to even read the forms she handed patient after patient every day. He was getting on her nerves already, so how they were getting back to Holby without killing each other was a mystery to her. The police had agreed to work with the police back home to sort this all out, so she had no excuse not to go in his car.

"Here," she snapped, thrusting both forms almost violently at Joanie. "Now. Can I _please_ go?"

"Of course," Joanie smiled in a way that reminded Serena of Chantelle Lane. It didn't matter how badly she treated this young woman; she was always going to be kind and helpful to her. "I'll go and get the two police officers."

When she left, Henrik immediately said, "Is it really necessary to be so unpleasant? She went out of her way to get us back to the right hotel safely, after all."

Serena didn't reply. She just stood up, wincing at the pain it caused her, and pulled what was left of her shirt over her top. She didn't even know how to feel or how to act. Now that it had had time to sink in, now that she had thoroughly embarrassed herself in front of Hanssen by throwing up in shock, she felt numb.

She felt numb because she didn't know what she was meant to feel. What was the norm for this situation? Was she meant to be scared? Was she supposed to be a terrified, traumatised wreck, even though there was nothing to remember?

She thought about this until she and Hanssen walked into the hotel room. She looked around, and suddenly recalled why they had been out in the first place, and that things were far more complex than she had been hoping.

_"Right, whatever," Serena sighed over the phone to her daughter. She was sick of Eleanor using her as a doormat whenever she wanted something because __Serena didn't have the heart to deny her in the knowledge she was never there anyway._

_ She hung up and sat on the bed, wondering when her life became like this. "Is everything alright?" Hanssen asked._

_ "Since when do you even care?" she retorted, tossing the phone carelessly onto the bed._

_ "Since I have to share a room with you and I want to know how bad a mood you're going to be in," he smirked as he typed away on his laptop. He looked up only briefly and she was mildly surprised at the mischievous __flash that crossed his eyes._

_ "My daughter is going to stay with her friend," she explained. The statement was met with a blank look from Hanssen as he closed his laptop so she elaborated. "For a fortnight. Because she hates living with me. Or maybe it's because she practically lives without me."_

_ She sighed and stared at the floor for a moment. When she looked up again, Hanssen was standing in front of her. Not to be outdone, or feel inferior, she stood up straight, daring him to comment on her relationship with her daughter. To an extent she blamed him anyway; the amount of work he passed on to her was borderline insane._

_ "I need some air," she said, picking up her coat. "Feel free to join me. I don't bite."_

_ "You could have fooled me," he smirked. She glared at him until she realised it would only prove him right._

_ Before she knew it, she was walking down the streets with Hanssen, trying not to lose track of where they were going. If it came to it, though, they both had GPS maps on their mobiles. "I take it you've not got kids then?" she said, trying to break the heavy, tense silence._

_ He paused for only a moment before he answered her. "No."_

_ "Thought not. You're still sane," she grinned._

_ "So are you," he replied. "Just." In a rare moment of lightheartedness between them, she slapped his chest lightly with the back of her hand. He turned to face her with a small smirk, his eyes locked __on hers. She tried her hardest but she couldn't tear her gaze from him. He leaned in towards her gently and her heart started to race when she realised what was about to happen._

_ Too much of a coward to let him, she grinned. "When was the last time you had a takeaway?"_

_ "I can't even remember."_

_ "Well, then," she replied, turning back to walk down the street by his side. "Let's fix that, shall we?"_

It had been banter, lighter and less venomous than usual. And he had tried to kiss her. Henrik Hanssen, of all the people in the world, had went to kiss her.

She heard his voice from the end of his unused bed, "I will just go and shower and change my clothes."

"Yeah," she agreed absent mindedly. She heard the door close as he went to the bathroom with fresh clothes and a towel.

It was with a sinking feeling that she searched through her own bags for her other set of clothes, but she gave up before she found them and lay down on her bed, fighting the urge to cry. She had nothing really to cry about. There was nothing to remember. And yet she couldn't help but feel hurt, the physical pain no longer a distraction but a reminder that, whether she could recall it or not, it really had happened.

She put her hands over her face, childishly hoping that it would block the world around her out and she wouldn't have to face Hanssen when he came out of that bathroom.

She lay like that for God only knows how long before she jumped at the sound of the door opening, and the familiar sound of Hanssen's sigh and him rifling through a bag. "Up," he told her. She took her hands from her face to see him standing before her, as a friend. "Up, up, up," he repeated, gently taking her hand and giving her the clothes she had given up on finding along with her make-up bag and a white towel. "Come on. In the shower with you. I refuse to allow you to wallow. We bother know it won't do you any favours."

She forced back an amused smile; she had never seen him so comically kick anyone's arse into gear, never mind her own, but she was grateful he was not scared of her front.

Stepping under the water Hanssen had left running for her, she examined herself grimly. She was covered in bruises. She scrubbed at them with soap, as if she could clean them off. Like they were dirty marks. Like they were horrible stains against her pale creamy skin.

She didn't even notice she was crying until a loud, panicked sob ripped straight through her chest. She stifled the second so Hanssen wouldn't hear her, and every other that came after.

There was a light knock on the door, and his voice came through, "Are you alright?"

She couldn't answer without giving away that, actually, she wasn't OK. How could she be OK?

She got out the shower and quickly got dressed and put her make-up on; it was a no doubt misguided effort to the man on the other side of the door. Her boss. All she had just now. The man who was doing his best to be her friend in his own subtle ways.

A deep breath to calm herself, and then she opened the door and saw Hanssen sitting on the bed after receiving no answer to his question.

Serena gave him a small smile to deter his concern, but he didn't seem to swallow it as easily as most would. "What do we tell everyone back home?" she asked, throwing her ruined clothes in the suitcase. She didn't know why she wasn't just binning them; maybe she just needed the proof still.

"What do you _want_ to tell them?" he returned.

"Not that I was..." she trailed off. She gave a bitter laugh. "Christ, I can't even say it. How stupid is that?!"

"It's not stupid," he replied, standing up and walking slowly towards her as she tried and failed to zip her bag up with her shaking fingers. He moved her hands away with more softness than she had thought he possessed, and zipped it up for her. "It's to be expected. You cannot possibly expect to act like the past twenty-for hours didn't happen."

She looked up at him, meeting his eyes for the first time since waking up this morning, and remembered that he was suffering too. She was quick to forget that Hanssen was as bad as she was for hiding his feelings, and that his body and emotions had suffered alongside hers.

The tears stung her eyes and she swallowed back the lump in her throat. "I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice hoarse and her throat sore. "I should know better."

"Better than what?"

"Than to cry," she clarified. "I just...I just need..."

"A friend?" he suggested. "I may not be your favourite person, but I won't leave you to deal with it all alone."

Her heart softened in the knowledge that Henrik Hanssen was not a harsh, horrible person, but a perceptive, compassionate man. She let a sad smile reach her lips as the tears spilled over. He picked up their bags and led her out of the room, allowing her the small hope that when they left this place, they would also leave this behind them.

As they got in his car, she realised she hadn't told him that she had remembered about their 'almost' moment last night. It would only complicate matters, and that was not what either of them needed right now.

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to leave a review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hello again. Because nobody else will listen, let me just say something: SIX MORE SLEEPS. I'm like a kid counting down to Christmas (I'm actually going to Florida but that's how excited I am). Packing today and the suitcase wouldn't fit on the scales. We know, however, that our oldest dog weighs 24kg, so my brother tested her weight against the suitcases - if it was lighter than her it was fine. Poor Boo Boo was not impressed at being lifted up repeatedly by my brother. Her name is actually Maggie but Dad started calling her Boo Boo when I was about eight and it kinda stuck.**

**Anyway, enough of my ridiculous ramblings; thank you, yet again, to everyone who has read and reviewed so far!**

**Sarah x **

* * *

Hanssen got out and started filling the fuel tank up in a quiet countryside station, resisting the temptation to hit his head off the roof of the car in frustration. His efforts to console a quiet, dead Serena were like talking to a brick wall most of the time; he got very little reaction from her, and he knew it was down to her self-discipline that she wasn't in floods of tears.

He knew she was upset – he had heard her crying in the shower and seen her tears as they left the hotel – but she wasn't letting the pain show. She was just _calm_. Frighteningly so.

He couldn't comprehend how she was doing it. It came naturally to him, but he had seen her angry and upset and, though she tried, she never quite disguised it. Which left another option: numbness. And numbness was never a good thing. It was the only thing more destructive than pain. It was the only thing that could be more agonising than pain. It was its own form of pain, and it was not easily expressed. It explained the dead stillness exuding from the woman.

He started slightly when the passenger door opened. "Just going to the bathroom," Serena told him. He must have given her a distrustful look because she added, "Promise. It's not like I'm in any condition to leg it while your back's turned, if that's what you're thinking."

She left him to finish putting fuel into the car and stop himself from going after her. He hated this. Granted, they were hardly the best of friends, but he couldn't bear to see her crawl back into her shell like this. This wasn't Serena Campbell. Not the one he knew. He actually trusted this version of the woman even _less_ than the original model.

He sighed and went to pay for the fuel and get Serena a sandwich. As he handed over the cash, Serena walked out of the bathrooms, looking far worse than when she had left him. Something told him she had just been sick again. She was deathly pale yet again.

The girl behind the counter gave him his change and he silently stepped towards Serena, handing her the food. "You should eat."

"Pot and kettle?" she raised an eyebrow at him. He stared her down, for once with more intent than her, and she said, "Please don't do this." He was a little surprised that her voice came out weak and cracked, but he didn't need to ask what she meant by 'this.' He knew she was telling him to leave her to stew but he didn't want to. It wouldn't do her any good; he knew her well enough to know at least that.

"Your serenity, right now, matches your name," he informed her. "In light of what has happened, that isn't natural."

She looked at the floor before she walked away from him, leaving him standing there like a moron. He followed her, running after her before she could get in the car, ignoring the pain in caused him to make his legs move faster than normal. "Ms. Campbell," he said. She ignored him. "_Serena_!" he used her first name to get her attention.

He could tell that it was with a great deal of reluctance that she turned on her heel to face him. "Stop this."

"Stop what?" she demanded. "Am I pissing you off, Mr. Hanssen?" she sneered.

He took a few steps towards her and replied, "No. But it's unnerving. Stop _acting_ like nothing has happened."

"So I'm not pissing you off," she accepted. "But I _am_ scaring you?"

"Yes."

"Who would have thought remaining calm would scare the calmest person I've ever met?" It was sarcastic. Unfeeling. Cold. He just stared at her again, trying to see past her façade of eerie calm. She looked away to the car, and he saw her finding anything to look at that didn't care about her. "I'm sorry," she apologised. "I shouldn't be so horrible to you."

"No, you shouldn't," he agreed. "You should _talk_ to me. You _need_ to talk to me."

She looked up at him, her face in pieces, façade on the floor, all pretense between them, for a moment, destroyed. "Would you be offended if I...asked for a hug?" she said, her soft voice barely audible. "It won't help matters but it might make me feel a little bit better."

He forced back a cynical smile and gestured for her to come towards him. She stepped into his arms and he gently hugged her, unsure if he was doing it right. It wasn't something he was used to doing. His bruises protested as her arms slipped around his waist but he did not complain. He never complained about anything, so why start now?

"Thank you," she whispered. "I'm being a bitch, aren't I?"

"Just a little bit," he admitted. He rubbed her back softly and added, "I don't mind. I'm used to you by now."

He felt her smile into his chest before she pulled away and retorted, "Likewise."

"How about we go for a walk? It can't be doing your muscles any favours to sit in that seat," he suggested. She nodded and got in the car. Finally, after so long of getting nothing out of her, he was getting somewhere.

He parked at the top of an unpaved, deserted single track road and cut the engine. Together they got out of the car and started walking side by side. "If you can't face Holby just yet, there are plenty of derelict fields to camp in," he joked.

"All we have to do is think of something to tell them," she replied. "I suppose it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to say we got into a bar fight, would it?" she added. He smiled to himself; no. it wouldn't actually. Everyone knew Serena had a tendency to rile people, and make relatively small matters explode into massive issues.

"So what's the whole story, in case anyone asks?" he said.

"Well, we could always say that three drunk guys were fighting and we tried to split them up," she explained, "and were repaid with a good few bruises. I've been known to play the hero, and I'm sure it's believable of you as well."

"Because that doesn't make us sound like morons at all," he retorted.

"Less embarrassing than the truth," she pointed out grimly. They walked down the old road together, silently agreeing on the lie they were to tell. "The truth is..." she tried to describe, but she was so obviously lost for words for what had happened.

He sighed gently and felt her fingers brushing his. She cautiously took his hand; he realised now that she needed comforting. She was just too proud to ask for it. "I understand," he assured her. "I understand you don't know what you feel right now."

She gave a harsh, cold, bitter laugh he hated to hear. It didn't suit her.

"I don't even know what I'm _meant_ to feel."

"You're not _meant_ to feel any certain emotion," he answered her, squeezing her hand lightly. "And you shouldn't let anyone tell you what to feel."

"When did you become so insightful?" she demanded.

"I have always been insightful," he informed her. "I think many things to myself. I'm just not stupid enough to say them aloud."

"You are many things," she said, her tone slightly accusatory, "but stupid definitely isn't one of them."

"Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment."

They walked the track for over an hour, right around in a square until it led them to the quiet main road. He had never felt so close to someone, but he had also never felt so estranged from anyone in his life before. Not even his father. Not even Maja. Because with them he had known the reasons and had simply walked away; here he was walking alongside a woman who was so distant he felt he could shout in her face and she wouldn't feel a thing.

He turned to face her when they reached he car, wanting to know if she was as calm as she let him see. He brushed her hair out of her eyes with the tips of his fingers. She was unerringly comfortable with his touch for a woman who had been attacked less than twenty-four hours ago. Her hand reached up for his, her hands surprisingly cold.

"Henrik," she whispered. "I need to tell you something." It wasn't often she used his first name so he quickly became worried.

"Go on."

"I remembered something about last night," she confessed. "Eleanor phoned. She annoyed me and we went for a walk. We were talking," she explained. "You..." she hesitated.

"What did I do?" he asked her gently, dreading to think what he might have done.

"You were about to kiss me but I pleaded ignorance and offered you a takeaway," she blurted out, and Hanssen soon realised that this made everything more complicated. He could vaguely remember it now; she had grinned up at him, and he had wondered if she had realised that, in that moment, something had drawn him to her. "You tried to kiss me," she repeated. "Can you remember why?"

He shook his head. He didn't say that he remembered that he had wanted to kiss her. He knew that would only confuse her. So for her sake, he kept his mouth shut. "I'm sure everything will come back to us in the end," she reassured him.

That attraction burned again as she stood before him but he knew better than to act on it. It would have been completely out of order for him to kiss her when she needed him the most. She was confused and upset already, and he wasn't going to add to that by confusing their bond when they had only just came upon an unsaid agreement to be civil and stand by each other.

She touched the bruises on his face softly and asked him, "You still don't remember how you got these?"

"Unfortunately not," he said. "I have a suspicion it may have been the price I paid in an effort to protect you."

"If so, that effort was in vain, wasn't it?"

"Do you recall why you slapped me?" he asked when he fingers fell painfully onto the cut she had admitted to causing. She shook her head.

He put his hand lightly against her back and guided her to the car. When he started the engine, he also began thinking and trying with all his might to remember something, _anything_, about last night and what happened. When did remembering facts become so difficult? Things he didn't need, or want, to remember came so easily to him and yet when he needed to remember what happened for himself and for Serena, he came up with next to nothing. It was ridiculously frustrating.

He briefly looked around at her before returning his attention to the road, and she looked at him. "I'm fine," she assured him before he could even ask her anything. "It may be a blessing in disguise that Eleanor threw a strop and went to a friend's for two weeks. Gives this all time to heal," she gestured to her neck and chest. "She needn't know a thing about it."

"Is that wise?" he asked sceptically.

"Probably not," she admitted. "But I don't think I have it in me to tell her. Ignorance is bliss and all that."

"The biggest lie ever told."

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hello! Thanks, first, to everyone who is reading and reviewing. I hope it's not too hard to read - I'm just trying to make it as true to life as I can!**

**Sarah x**

* * *

Serena got out of the car at the hospital, and remembered she didn't have the key for her car. "Shit," she sighed. "I'll have to go in for my spare keys. They're in my office," she explained to Hanssen, who was taking their bags out of the boot. She took hers from him and silently tried to work up the nerve to walk into the hospital. "Thank you," she said to him. "For everything. I can't be very nice to be around," she admitted.

"You're welcome," he replied. She stretched up, ignoring the pain and discomfort it caused her, and placed a soft kiss onto his jaw, practically the only part of his face that wasn't bruised. "What was that for?" he asked quietly.

"Being you," she smiled. "How bad is my face?"

"Truthfully?" She groaned and nodded, realising that any bruising would have worsened throughout the day. "You've got a bruised face, neck and chest. Actually, there are a few things I need from my office."

Together they made their way into the main building only to get to the lifts and run into Serena's worst nightmare: Chantelle Lane.

"Oh, my _God_!" the young nurse exclaimed when she saw their injuries. "Are you OK?!"

"We're fine, Chantelle," Serena answered her, doing her best to sound bored so she didn't think it was any big deal. "Run in with a bunch of drunk lunatics." She very suddenly felt Chantelle's arms around her neck, pulling her into a tight, bone-crushing cuddle. Serena smirked when she did the same to Hanssen, who looked to Serena with an expression that simply said 'help me.'

"We are perfectly alright, Nurse Lane," Henrik reassured her with a smile as she released him.

"Sorry," Chantelle apologised. "You just look _really_ beat up!"

Serena glanced up at Hanssen, realising they must have looked worse than they thought they did. Chantelle, of course, was over-dramatic and reacted like this to everything, but Serena felt very conscious of her injuries now. She was also very conscious of her demeanour and what the likes of Michael Spence and Antoine Malick would read into it.

"We are fine," Serena reasserted with a bizarrely – for her – affectionate pat to Chantelle's soft cheek. "Don't worry. And try and not make a big deal of it. We want to just put that bloody conference behind us. Line in the sand."

"Of course," she nodded. They all got in the lift, and Serena felt Hanssen's hesitant yet soothing hand on her back.

"You're doing fine," he whispered to her, Chantelle oblivious to the words that addressed Serena's worries. "I promise." She gave a reluctant, superficial smile, touched that he had thought to reassure her like that. The doors opened to reveal Keller ward and she and Chantelle stepped out; Serena made a dash to her office and picked her spare keys for her house and car. She wouldn't admit it, but she didn't want to go home alone.

There was nothing to do. She had done all she needed to. She had spoken to the police and cancelled her cards, had her phone and SIM blocked and reported her driver's license missing to the DVLA while she was in the hospital. All the formalities had been dealt with. Eleanor was safe, albeit barely on speaking terms with her.

The more she thought about it, the more obvious the problem became. She wasn't ready to let Hanssen go. He was the only one who knew, the only one keeping her together. He had been unbelievably kind to her, and he had been under no obligation to, considering their fractious relationship. It was far, far more than she had ever expected of him. He had even held her tight in the middle of a filling station forecourt. Without him, she feared she was going to break down.

When she unlocked the car, she had to force herself not to run up to his office and cry in his arms. There was nothing she wanted to more at that moment. As weak as she felt for it, all she wanted to do was run to him and say she _wasn't_ fine. She _wasn't_ alright. She _wasn't_ OK.

She knew he hadn't believed her, but she felt this strange need to say it. She felt isolated in every way.

The numbness she had felt was quickly receding, and the floodgates were opening to reveal every unpleasant emotion she knew.

Furious. Afraid. Tormented. Anguished. Weak. Vulnerable. Damaged. Violated. Scarred. Broken.

She sighed and started the engine, making sure she remembered the way home, but when she looked up, Hanssen was standing in front of her car. "Oh, great," she moaned as she cut the engine and opened the door. He crouched down in the doorway and gazed intently at her. She felt him searching her for her true feelings rather than what she told him.

"You're not alright, are you?" he asked gently. She didn't answer him. And then it was with a pang of painful fondness that she realised she didn't need to tell him anything. "Would you like someone to go home with you?"

She swallowed back her tears and replied, "Can you come home with me? Just for tonight?"

He got up silently and closed the door; she heard him place his belongings in the boot and get in the passenger seat.

"It's OK to ask me, you know," he told her gently when they reached the main road. "I wouldn't think any less of you."

"I..."

She couldn't find the words. Her feelings, her emotions, her torment, her reluctance to admit it, her need to have Hanssen near her...none of it could be put into any words she knew. "I said I wouldn't leave you to deal with what happened to you alone," he reminded her. "I meant it."

"I know."

She drove without speaking but put the radio on; she couldn't stand the weight of the silence. She wasn't even listening. It was just a noise to stop her mind wandering.

"..._some sort of window to your right, he goes left and you stay right_..." she heard Hanssen sing along. She was surprised to hear him singing; it was something she had never pictured him as able to do. "..._I would have stayed up with you all night, had I'd known how to save a life_..."

She felt tears stinging her eyes as she took the turnoff, unable to tell him to shut up without giving her agony away. "_...pray to God he hears you, and pray to God he hears you_..." he quietly sang. The song was already painful to hear; to hear Hanssen singing it, knowing he was now able to feel it, was agonising. "..._drive until you lose the road or break with ones who follow_..."

She willed herself to keep her mouth shut. "..._I would have stayed up with you all night, had I'd known how to save a life_..."

When they got to her house ten minutes later, she stopped the engine but was unable to force herself out of the car for a moment. "Right," she smiled in an effort to pull herself together. She was disturbed slightly by how easily this false smile came to the surface when she wanted it to. In many ways, she was in perfect control but in others she was sinking faster than she had ever done before.

They got in the house and she announced, "First thing's first. _Coffee_." He gave a low chuckle in response and she added, "Living room's over there. Make yourself comfy," pointing towards the sitting room.

He left her to it, and she wandered into the kitchen and started to make the coffee. The room was silent aside from the bubbling of the kettle, which seemed oddly deafening as it filled the atmosphere. It was no distraction. It was suffocating.

It forced her to think of why she felt like this. She remembered nothing still, but the knowledge was enough to push her too far.

She couldn't stop herself – she started to cry. The tears ran hot down her cheeks as she tried to keep quiet for Hanssen's sake; he had enough to deal with without her falling apart on him.

She thought of when she woke up, and the panic she had felt scrambling through the darkness. She never once had panicked like that until today, and now she looked back, she had known even then that something wasn't right.

How could she move on without breaking down? How could she break down without knowing exactly what happened?

The silence rang in her ears when she noticed the kettle had stopped. It was at that moment that the first agonising, broken sob tore through her and acknowledged everything. She accepted it. And it was _so_ painful.

She couldn't understand it. She couldn't make any sense of it. Why had it happened? Who had done it? _What_ exactly even happened?

A hand fell onto her shoulder and she immediately spun around to find Hanssen standing over her. His arms wrapped around her body – without her asking – and held her tight to him. He was warm and comforting, the contradiction of his personality, and she was rapidly remembering why she had asked him here.

He wouldn't allow her to sit and cry alone. He wouldn't allow her to get drunk. He had made his position clear.

"Ssh," he whispered to her. She couldn't control her breathing any longer so she let it come out ragged and uneven, even though it hurt her throat and chest. His hand was on the back of her head, carefully avoiding her cut, as she cried into his chest.

"Sorry," she forced out.

"Don't be," he replied. "I've been waiting for it to happen all day." With that statement, she felt his arms tighten around her. It was almost like he was keeping all the pieces of her together so she didn't fall apart.

She finally gave in and wrapped her arms around him and allowed herself the luxury of his embrace while his hand moved up and down her back gently. He was the one person she knew she could trust because he was the one person who had been there with her from the start of all this.

His touch calmed her down, and when she managed to stop crying she pulled him tighter for only a moment. She felt his breath in her hair as he tried to somehow miraculously protect her from what her own mind, what her own emotions, had finally succeeded in reducing her to. "You can't be Wonder Woman your entire life," he explained to her. "Nobody would expect you to just go back to normal. I did tell you it wouldn't be that simple."

"Yeah, yeah," she sighed. "You told me so. I've been waiting for that."

She pulled away from the safety of his arms, realising she couldn't have him shelter her forever. She had no doubt she would remember what happened and when she did she would have to face it. And as hard as she tried to pretend otherwise, she knew now she couldn't do it alone. She had tried that one and lasted less than a day, and that was with very little knowledge of what had happened.

He stepped around her and made the coffee she had been meaning to before he guided her through her own house to the sofa, handing her a mug. "Thank you," she said, wiping the melted make-up from her face on the back of her hand and her fingers. She didn't doubt that she looked a right state but she wasn't all that bothered; he was here for _her_, not for what she looked like. She understood that now.

He had come here to help her.

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to leave me a review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I'm not really sure about this, but I hope it's OK. This might be the last update for a little while though. Thanks for all the kind reviews!**

**Sarah x**

* * *

After a night of quietly observing Serena, when morning came, Henrik made the tentative decision that she was fit to work; if she wasn't, he would have made her stay at home. He would be able to keep an eye on her until lunchtime, since there was a Board meeting and then a meeting with Jac and Elliot.

He sat silent in the passenger seat as she drove them to work. Standing in front of the Board with their injuries, he realised, would be easy for nobody. "I remembered," Serena confessed as she turned off onto the main road. "I remembered why I slapped you." He remained silent, waiting for her to explain. "We got into an argument about Sweden. I asked you what really happened, but I think I might have spooked you. You called me a 'manipulative, devious, awful woman with no sense of what it is to be morally and emotionally torn to the point becomes impossible to see the right path to take.' True enough, but it hurt nonetheless," she shrugged.

She was disturbingly cool about the incident. "Sorry. I just don't like to talk about that," he explained, hoping she would understand why his shield had raised in such a horrible way.

"Yes, I'd gathered that, funnily enough," she smiled. "I guess I do know what it is now, though."

Henrik didn't say anything; he didn't really see what he _could_ say that was of any use to her.

Before he knew it, they were walking into the Board meeting with a more united front than they had ever shared before. "Bloody _hell_," Terrence Cunningham said. "What in the world has happened to you two?"

"Bar brawl," Hanssen lied, sitting down next to Serena. "It would seem that even the most pleasant of people turn into morons when they've had too much to drink."

"_You_ got into a pub fight?" Cunningham demanded sceptically across the table, the only one familiar and arrogant enough to dare to challenge Serena Campbell and Henrik Hanssen.

"Yes, well," Serena cut in. "I didn't much like the idea of two thirty-odd-year-old thugs setting about a scrawny nineteen-year-old student," she lied easily and sharply; she obviously knew as well as Hanssen that it was easier to lie than admit to the Board they were the true targets of whatever attack had taken place, and that they still were clueless as to what had happened.

Hanssen closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, uncharacteristically tired and emotionally worn. "It soon transpired that Ms. Campbell is less than capable of taking on said thugs single-handedly, and pretty much everyone else in that bar was too drunk to be of any use whatsoever," he concluded, opening his eyes to see every member of the Board looking rather taken aback by his clipped tone. "Now, Ms. Campbell and I are still perfectly capable of our jobs, so I suggest we get down to business, so to speak." He caught Cunningham staring at the bruises on Serena's body and face – she had given up on hiding them after half an hour of trying in vain this morning – and that protective instinct kicked in again. "And I would appreciate it, Mr. Cunningham, if you would refrain from gawking at Ms. Campbell like she is an animal in a zoo."

He had said it before he could stop himself when he noticed Serena deliberately avoiding the man's gaze. Cunningham looked startled. He had clearly never heard that aggressive layer to his tone.

"Thank you," Serena whispered, barely audible even to him. It was with awkward tension in the air, particularly between Hanssen and Cunningham, that they started the meeting.

The next meeting, between themselves, Jac, Elliot, Jonny and Mo, was more uncomfortable for Hanssen. First of all, he knew from experience that Jac Naylor had a talent for seeing right through him. Next on his list of worries were Elliot Hope and Mo Effanga, two naturally caring individuals who immediately wanted to know if they were alright. Lastly was Jonny Maconie; Hanssen had watched the Scot silently assess their conditions and start speculating.

"What happened to you?!" Elliot demanded, going over to get a closer look at the state of Serena's face. She looked rather uncomfortable but seemed to realise Elliot only wanted to know she wasn't too badly hurt because he cared about her.

"I played the hero in the pub while we were away," she sighed, telling the same lie as before. "Two big blokes set about a teenager and I stepped in. They gave me a slap and Mr. Hanssen had to step in and help."

"Always knew you weren't to be messed with," Mo smirked.

"Oh my," Elliot exclaimed. "Sounds like you had an exciting time!"

"That's one way to put it," Serena replied darkly. Hanssen met Jac's eyes awkwardly and found she wasn't falling for a word of their story. Jonny was still examining Serena from a distance; it wasn't the same way Cunningham's eyes had scrutinised her. Jonny was doing it purely from a medical perspective and, though it made Hanssen slightly nervous, he didn't feel the need to jump down Jonny's throat as he had done to Cunningham earlier in the morning.

Hanssen very much took a back seat this time, not wanting to make anyone's suspicions any worse and letting Serena practice her lie.

They eventually started their business, Jac and Jonny exchanging dark looks as they sat down. Hanssen had been fearing this; if anyone was going to doubt their story, it was going to be Jac and Jonny. He had almost been expecting it, really.

Once the meeting was over, Jonny Maconie hung back, saying to Mo and Jac, "I'll see yous in a minute. Get me a coffee, will you?" as they left with Elliot and Serena.

"Is there something more you would like to discuss?" Hanssen asked, gathering his paperwork.

"That was no bar brawl that's done that to you two," Jonny asserted, looking rather nervous at the prospect of challenging his boss on his story of what happened.

"And how can you possibly know that when you were not with us when those men decided to kick off?" Hanssen demanded as he attempted in vain to keep up the lie they had concocted while wandering along an old country road together.

Jonny gave a humourless laugh. "I'm from Drumchapel, Mr. Hanssen," he explained. "Pub fights were ten a penny when I was growing up there. Been in a few myself," he admitted. "And I have never seen anyone come out of it with what Ms. Campbell's got."

"The larger of the two men took her by the throat," he instantly lied. "That was when I had to step in."

Jonny shook his head and sat down next to Hanssen. "Don't give me that. It's not the same kind of bruise you get when you've been in a choke hold. It's more like someone pushed her down by the neck and forced her to stay down by pressing down into her chest." He leaned forward and looked up at Hanssen. "What really happened?"

Serena would surely panic if Jonny knew the truth, but there was no fooling the young man; Hanssen was quickly realising Jonny was too wise to the world to fall for their lies. "It was nothing to do with a bar fight," Hanssen confessed. "That goes no further," he added strictly. "Anything I say stays between us. I'm only answering your question because I've known you long enough to know you can be like a dog with a bone."

"Of course. It won't leave this room. I'm just worried about the pair of you. Even Jac sees there's something more to it."

Hanssen was slightly taken aback – it wasn't often any of his employees showed any degree of care for his wellbeing. They normally avoided him like he was the Grim Reaper. And yet here Jonny sat, wanting to know what happened to his two bosses.

"We can't remember exactly what happened," Henrik admitted. "There was a row between Ms. Campbell and her daughter so we went for a walk to clear her head," he recounted, though leaving out the parts where Serena had informed him he had tried to kiss her, and when she had slapped him.

"And that's the last thing you remember?"

"There was a gang of men," he recalled carefully. "Ms. Campbell offended them somehow, and they followed us. They backed us into a corner."  
"Drink? Drugs?"

"I'm fairly sure they were on drugs of some sort."

"Did you get checked out or did you patch each other up?" Jonny sighed, leaning against the table.

"We went to the hospital because Ms. Campbell was concerned that-" he cut himself off before he put her foot in it. He'd said too much.

Jonny's expression turned from one of curiosity to one of urgency. "She was worried about what?" he asked. Hanssen looked away, trying to think of a lie to tell so he wouldn't have to break Serena's trust. But he didn't _want_ to lie to Jonny. Jonny actually cared. Jonny could keep his mouth shut about something like this. And anyway, the man could tell what was a lie and what wasn't, and Hanssnen was already sick to the back teeth of lying.

"She was worried that she had been raped because of the state we woke up in."

"And were these fears founded?" Jonny asked, looking like he didn't want to know the answer. Hanssen met his eyes and didn't need to answer; he clearly gathered the rest of the story from the expression on his face.

Hanssen sighed. "Jonny," he warned, using the nurse's first name for the first time. "You cannot breathe a word of this to anyone. We have already lied to the Board about what happened so it would not be wise for another version of events to reach their ears. And Ms. Cam-Serena," he corrected himself, realising he was using the name out of habit, "has enough on her plate without worrying what other people are thinking about her. Do you understand me?"

"Of course, Mr. Hanssen. My lips are sealed," he smiled gently.

"Thank you," Henrik said sincerely. He stood up, collecting his belongings as he did so, and gestured for Jonny to leave in front of him. He was, surprisingly, not worried about Jonny's ability to keep the secret. He had made his intention to keep quiet perfectly clear.

Hanssen realised as he left Darwin that Jonny only wanted to know because he truly cared, but nevertheless, he still felt guilty for spilling it all out to him. It was meant to be his and Serena's secret to keep. He didn't like betraying her after the struggle they had been through. But the fact remained that there was no lying to Jonny Maconie about it; he saw, analysed and understood too much.

His phone rang as he approached the lift. Sacha Levy. He answered, only realising how tired he actually sounded when he said, "Yes, Mr. Levy?"

"It's Serena Campbell," he said hastily, and he sounded both disturbed and concerned. "I think you need to come down here."

"I'm sure you can handle Ms. Campbell on your own," Hanssen replied. "Do not be startled by her injuries. She is perfectly alright," he repeated for what felt like the millionth time.

"No, Mr. Hanssen, she's not. I really think you should get down to AAU."

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to review and tell me your thoughts!  
Sarah x**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hello from Florida! I am dead. Disne****yWorld. Universal. SeaWorld. My feet hurt. But somehow I found time to write this :) Harry Potter World tomorrow. I love this ****place!**

**Thanks for all nice reviews, you lovely people!**

**Sarah x**

* * *

Serena stepped back from the man, transfixed by his face and yet wishing she didn't know him.

_"You're such an idiot sometimes," she snapped at Hanssen, for once striding up in front of him with no more patience for his cagey nature. "Why can't you just be honest?!"_

_"That's a bit rich coming from you," he retorted in a frustratingly placid tone._

_"That isn't the point and you bloody know it."_

_They came across a group of men, all in their mid to late thirties, blocking the whole pavement. "Excuse me," she said. They took no notice of her so she added, "Will you please get out of my way?!" Still they ignored her so she shouting, torn between her anger with Hanssen and her irritation with these men, "Will you bloody well move?!"_

_One of them turned to face her, quite clearly drugged up, and sneered, "Did you say something, sweetheart?"_

_"First, I am nobody's 'sweetheart' and second, yes, for the fourth time, move out of my way," she snapped. He still didn't move, and neither did his cronies, so she added, probably unwisely, "I'm sorry. Are you deaf or just stupid?"_

_"Ms. Campbell!" she heard Hanssen's severe warning behind her. "I apologise. Ms. Campbell can be a little excitable."_

_"Too right," the man snarled. Hanssen sighed and forced his way through the little gang, grasping Serena's hand tightly. Once they were clear of the men, she yanked it forcefully from his grip and resumed her assault on his character in her anger with his reluctance to trust her._

"What are you doing here?" she demanded breathlessly of the man before her, recognising him as the man who had been causing trouble.

"She's my mum, ain't she?" he answered her. "Why do you care?"

Serena said nothing, unable to speak as she struggled to breathe in fear and panic at his appearance. She wanted to be as far as she could from him; he obviously played a part in what happened last night. She didn't know what he'd done but she was oddly terrified of him.

"Ms. Campbell?" Harry Tressler said. "Are you OK?"

She couldn't force an answer to her lips. "Serena!" Chrissie said urgently. "Serena, try and breathe!"

She hadn't noticed until now, too fixated by this man, that she wasn't breathing. She couldn't. Every time she tried, it caught in her throat and tightened her chest. She felt Chrissie's hand on her back and heard Sacha willing Hanssen to pick up his phone. "It's Ms. Campbell," he said over the phone. "I think you need to come down here." He listened for a moment before saying, "No, Mr. Hanssen, she's not! I really think you should get down to AAU."

"Come on," Chrissie said. She guided Serena through to the consultant's office, sitting her down gently. She was still struggling to breathe, panic taking over her body. She realised now she'd gone into a full blown panic attack. Chrissie was unsuccessfully attempting to calm her colleague down but every time she thought she regained control, she remembered what was mere feet away from her and started to panic again.

She tried to stop it but her mind was running in overdrive and she couldn't concentrate on what her body was doing, only what her memory was throwing at her.

The door opened and Hanssen stepped in carefully. "I can handle Ms. Campbell from here, Sister Levy," he said calmly. "Thank you for getting her off the ward."

He knelt down and looked up at her. "Breathe, Serena," he ordered her. "Breathe in, breathe out." She could feel his hand rubbing her back lightly and soothingly as he tried to calm her. She focussed solely on her breathing, knowing that nobody would harm her while Hanssen was here. She eventually managed to calm herself down before she choked out, "One of the people who attacked us is on AAU."

"As a patient?"

"Relative. His mother has acute abdo pain."

She watched as he took this information in. He, she could not deny, was far more logical than she was; she trusted he would find the answer.

"First, we call the police," he stated. "Then we either send you home or have you work on Keller."

"I can stay," she argued. "I'm needed here and I can handle it. It was just the shock of it." She didn't want him to think her weak or stupid, and letting him move her would make her look like the softest idiot ever to have walked this Earth. And anyway - what else could the man possibly do to her in the presence of Sacha, Chrissie, Harry and Mary-Claire?

Hanssen thought for a moment before he replied to her assertion. "Are you quite sure of that?"

"Henrik, he doesn't even know what happened himself. As long as I don't let on, why would he hurt me?" she reasoned. She was surprised to find herself in a more rational state than Hanssen; this was as close to panic she had ever seen him outwardly display. "Just call the police and let them deal with him." He raised an eyebrow at her so she promised, "I won't go anywhere near him!"

He didn't look very enthusiastic about the idea; actually, he looked like he wanted to drag her off AAU by the scruff of the neck. "OK," he sighed reluctantly. "But I will stay too."

"Henrik, I'll be fine!"

"You either allow me to remain or I will force you off this ward," he challenged, his stare hard and unyielding.

There would be no swaying him on this, Serena realised with an internal moan to herself. "Fine," she snapped. "Just keep out of my way," she warned sternly. She didn't want anyone else to clock the fact Hanssen was watching over her anxiously.

He gave a slight smile. "Agreed." He surprised her yet again by placing his hand lightly against her cheek in an effort to comfort her. "Will you be alright?"

"Yes."

He looked less than sure and a strange expression flashed across his face, gone quicker than it came. It was almost like he just wanted to pull her into his arms. His hand wandered up her cheek, just below her eye, and she felt warmth flood through her for the first time since she woke up in the darkness. "Henrik," she warned quietly. "Don't complicate things."

"I think the man outside this room has made a good job at that, hasn't he?"

"Don't complicate what I feel for you," she explained, her tone almost pleading with him to leave things as they stood. The way things were was fine with her; she finally trusted him, and he was finally being a man instead of cowering from anything remotely emotional. "Please," she murmured.

He looked at her acceptingly, but pressed a kiss into her hair as he stood up. "Come on," he ordered her, holding out his hand. Reluctantly she took it and allowed him to lead her back to the main unit. He made straight for the phone and kept his voice so low that nobody but the police officer on the other end of the line heard him.

She watched him hang up and approach her. "Ten minutes," he cautioned her quietly, giving her ample opportunity to bolt if the prospect was too overwhelming. "Mr. Levy," he called Sacha over. When he reached them, Henrik proceeded to tell him, "I will be assisting you this afternoon."

"There's no need," Sacha assured him. "For once we have plenty of staff." He turned to Serena and smiled, "Are you OK?"

"Yeah, yeah," she airily waved his concerns away. "I'm fine, thank you." She caught Hanssen sceptically raising an eyebrow at her lies; her breath caught in her chest every time her gaze fell upon that man.

"Nevertheless," Henrik interjected. "On an acute admissions ward, there is no such thing as having too many hands at work," he said. There was no arguing with the finality of his tone. Even Sacha knew better than to try. When Hanssen walked away, she felt his hand briefly touch her shoulder in support.

"What's up with him?" Sacha sighed, logging into the computer.

"He's just worried," said Serena. "He's not in a bad mood, so don't worry. He'll be fine when the police have been and gone," she rambled away to herself. She only realised what she had done when Sacha caught her arm when she went to walk away.

"Police?"

"Mrs. Cross's son," she replied. "He and his gang of pathetic junkie pals raped a woman and attacked both her and her companion."

"That's just disgusting," Sacha muttered. "Can you imagine what that woman must be going through right now? All those men attacking her?!" he demanded obliviously. "I'm not a violent person but I swear to God, if someone did that to Chrissie or my girls..."

"Yes, well," she smiled. "They've got a brilliant husband and father protecting them, haven't they?" He looked at her in happy shock, as if she had just burst into flames and died down unscathed. "What?!"

"You're just not normally so nice," he informed her. She glared lightly at him. "Not that you're not a nice person, but you don't usually say such lovely things to people."

"It's true," she shrugged. "Chrissie's bloody lucky to have you and your daughters are lucky to have such a dedicated father. God knows I sometimes wish Eleanor's father was a bit more like you," she ranted on, her weak shield falling apart before she could repair it.

"Well..." he answered, completely lost for words. He stood up and opened his arms when he sensed something weak about her. She glared at him; it was obvious he would never harm her, but still she found it hard.

She grudgingly stepped into his embrace and realised why Sacha Levy's bear hugs were renowned throughout the hospital. His arms were warm and protective. There was no other way to describe it. He was a defender, pure and simple.

"Whatever it is, you'll work it out," he assured her.

"How do you know?" she retorted into his chest. For reasons unknown to her, he gave a loud, cheerful laugh.

"You're Serena Campbell. Nothing wins against Serena Campbell in a fight."

* * *

**Hope this is OK!**

**Please feel free to review and tell me your thoughts!**

**Sarah x**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I survived Andrea. Just. Lightning struck down the middle of the hotel block. And the crosswalk. That made for a fun time crossing the road! Thanks again for all your reviews and please excuse any spelling issues here. My phone ****hates me.**

**Sarah x**

* * *

Hanssen watched Serena carefully as the police stalked into the ward. She looked scared but he knew she would never, ever let anyone but him see it. Not after having a panic attack.

He approached them at Serena's back, making sure she knew he was here behind her. That he was here as long as she needed him. Not as long as she wanted him, because he knew she didn't really want him, but she did need him. He could tell from the slight tremble in her hands as she introduced herself and Hanssen to the police and led them through to the consultant's office. He could tell from the crack in her voice as she offered them the computer chairs and leaned against the desk, her arms folded protectively across her chest. He could tell by the shine of tears and pain in her dark eyes. He could tell from the hesitance with which she explained what happened.

Hanssen let her get her piece out, speaking only when asked directly a question. He knew she just wanted it over with.

"Well, Brighton Police have explained the situation to us. All we need is a DNA match and him to give up his buddies' names," said the older of the two officers. They all stood up, the younger officer taking out his handcuffs.

Hanssen watched from the door with Serena as the police officers approached Adam Cross. He looked torn between anger and realisation when the younger policeman said, "Adam Cross, I am arresting you on suspicion of rape and assault. You do not need to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something you may later rely on in court."

When they left, all eyes turned on Hanssen and Serena; nobody understood it. Sacha Levy looked like he had been hit by a bus as he stared at Serena but said nothing. Harry Tressler looked like he didn't even know what to think. Mary-Claire Carter stood bewildered. Could it be any more obvious to them?

"Back to work," Hanssen said. "AAU won't run itself - I would have thought you'd noticed that by now."

They all got their heads down but he noticed the quiet chill in the air as it dawned on the staff that all was not as it had seemed when Hanssen and Serena had lied away their trauma. They were meant to be the leaders, not the subject of relentless speculation and scrutiny. "You OK?" Serena's soft voice asked him. He felt her hand reaching behind her to grab his, though to whose comfort he was unsure.

"Fine," he assured her. "You?"

"I'll live."

"Is that a promise?" he found himself asking, wondering whether she was going to truly continue living after all of this.

"Only if you make me a promise too."

"What may that be?"

"Promise me you won't abandon me. You're all I've got."

It was an admission that shocked him to the core. He had not expected to hear just how hurt and vulnerable she was, at least not from her. He had heard it from Sacha. He never expected to hear it from Serena herself.

"I promise."

Abandonment was something Hanssen did all too easily, but he swore to himself he was going to make a real effort this time. She squeezed his fingers lightly. "Can we go for dinner tonight?" she asked hesitantly. "I just want to do something normal on some level. I know we normally wouldn't have but you know what I mean. I don't want to sit and feel sorry for myself all night and I trust you enough to be alone with you."

It was a touching rambling he admired her deeply for. "Good for you," he praised her. "The last thing you need is to lose your trust and shut yourself in."

"Is that a yes?"

"Of course."

They returned to work, none of the staff daring enough to ask about the arrest of Adam Cross. The man was older than Hanssen had thought, actually. Stronger, too. The silence of the staff kept up until changeover time, when Sacha and Chrissie Levy broke it in the office Henrik had occupied for over an hour before.

"Is there something we ought to know about, Mr. Hanssen?" Sacha asked slightly nervously. "It's just that l, well, you've got to admit it's all a little weird. Serena had a panic attack at the sight of Adam Cross, and you're both beat up, and she's been acting weird. And then you personally called the police."

Chrissie remained silent. "You both have enough to worry about without Ms. Campbell and I adding to it," Hanssen asserted, not harshly, but firmly enough that they would know he was seriously taking their stress levels into consideration. "How is Rachel, incidentally?"

"She's as well as she can be," Sacha commented. "I'm just worried."

"So am I," Chrissie confessed. "I've never seen Serena so vulnerable. Not even after her mother's stroke. That was on a totally different scale. She couldn't even breathe!"

Knowing Serena would kill him if she found out he had told Jonny, never mind Sacha and Chrissie, Henrik replied, "I know seeing Ms. Campbell in that state must have frightened both of you but I can assure you that she will be alright." He didn't add that she had promised him she would try, or that he had promised her he would stand by her.

They did not look convinced but they seemed to accept they would not get the whole story from Hanssen. He suspected Serena may have said something to spark their concerns but he would not bring it up with her. It was done now, and they were only quietly concerned.

"If you're sure," Sacha allowed reluctantly.

* * *

Later that night he knocked on her door with caution; he was still not convinced this was a good idea. It was crossing a line on so many levels. But they'd crossed so many lines in the past two days that he wondered where most of them lay now. After all, when he had seen her cry, it was a silent understanding between them to help each other.

When she answered the door she wore a bright blue shirt and black trousers and jacket, along with a smile he didn't quite trust. She looked beautifully pained. Physically, she was as battered as she was emotionally. He went along with her broken smile to see how long she would maintain it. "Ready?" he asked her.

"Yep," she said cheerily. He examined her face hastily, trying to determine how deep her lie ran. She took his arm brightly and let him lead her to his car. When they set off he was amused and irritated to find her rifling through his CDs. "I'd better not find any ABBA in here," she warned him jokingly.

"You won't," he retorted just as quick.

"Garth Brooks," she snorted. "Johnny Cash. _Rosanne_ Cash!" she shouted gleefully. "Well well well, Mr. Hanssen. I am shocked. I never pegged you for the country rock kind of guy!"

"Books and covers, Ms. Campbell," he replied as he suppressed a smile.

"'Rosie Strike Back,'" she sighed happily. "I adore that song."

"Put it on if you want," he shook his head in amusement. She hadn't even waited for him to say so; she was already putting it in the player and pressing play.

"We're showing our age," she laughed, her foot tapping to the beat. "'King's Record Shop' was, what, 1989?"

"1987."

"God, I feel old now," she moaned, leaning her head back as she stared at the night outside the window.

"I would have thought, having a teenage daughter, you would prefer today's mainstream music," he commented. "This was never mainstream here," he added, referring to the music she had playing rather loudly.

"Are you kidding me?! She drives me mad with it. It's all too loud and in your face!"

"I would never have thought music was something you love so much," he laughed. It turned out he didn't know her as well as he thought he did. She pressed the shuffle button and when the first song finished another familiar upbeat song began.

"Tennessee Flat Top Box,'" she sighed. "This was her dad's to start with, wasn't it?"

"She didn't know it at the time. She thought it was in the public domain."

"I didn't know that," she smiled at him. "You learn something every day."

"Some days more than others."

"You know, I used to have all these CDs. Must've left them when I moved back from the States. Eleanor's tried the whole downloading thing with me but we never got very far," she rambled on, seemingly at peace enough to do so. This side to her was, quite simply, endearing. "I'm not a very good student, apparently," she laughed. Henrik grinned quietly, knowing exactly what the girl felt. If Serena didn't want to learn something, she simply didn't take to it. It had forced his hand more than once, after all. He didn't want to be left with no option but to make her believe he despised her. He didn't. In the last few weeks and months, actually, with their working proximity came something he couldn't quite describe. Almost like a quiet pull towards her.

"We're here," he announced as he parked the car and cut the engine. He looked around at Serena to find her gazing at him with a worryingly soft expression. "What?"

"I've just realised something," she said. "Despite your flaws, you are one truly decent man."

"You're full of confessions today, aren't you?" he chuckled, opening the door and getting out. He didn't let her know how much that touched him; on a personal level, it was not often that he was paid a compliment. She did not know enough about him to define him as decent, anyway. If she knew the trail of destruction he left behind him as a younger and far more foolish man, he was nearly certain she wouldn't have said that.

He let her out the passenger side and smiled to himself yet again. Despite the pain and trauma that forced them upon each other he was glad they were, for once, on good terms. He still was unsure of whether or not he liked her. She was unpredictable at the best of times and this was uncharted territory for both of them.

Just as they were seated, he caught Serena taking deep breaths, obviously building her composure and front in public. "You'll be fine," he assured her. "We're doing something normal, remember?"

"Normal," she snorted. "What the bloody hell are we playing at?"

"I have no idea," he admitted. "This is beyond the realms of comprehension," he teased, managing to get a grin out of her. "Right. What do you want to eat?"

She skimmed through the menu and groaned, "Whatever you're having." Though her submission troubled him he ordered a chicken dish for both of them. They were both quiet, carefully avoiding the subject of anything remotely painful, mostly talking about work, music, colleagues...anything that wasn't emotional.

"I'm sure it's your birthday next Friday," he remembered seeing her date of birth on file.

"Ugh, don't remind me," she grumbled. "I feel old already after realising our taste in music."

"I'm older than you," he reminded her.

"Yeah, but modern society dictates that women are old the second they turn forty," she complained grumpily. "I'm definitely on the wrong side of that milestone by now."

"Don't be ridiculous," he scolded her. "I take it you don't enjoy your birthday very much then?"

"Understatement of the millennium."

He just laughed, leaving the subject alone; she was obviously touchy about her age and he wasn't about to provoke her over it.

They spent a good two hours eating and drinking and taking their time to enjoy this new bond they'd stumbled upon. He decided now that he did quite like this funny, charming, slightly childish side to Serena. She was almost a different person.

She had his CDs blaring all the way to her house. "Now I really am showing my age!" she moaned. "'Seven Year Ache.' 1981. God help me," she laughed.

He let her rant on between periods of singing along and drumming her fingers to the beat.

It was only when he pulled up outside her house that she seemed to quieten down, the music the only thing breaking their silence. He walked her to the front door. She unlocked the door before turned and kissed his cheek for the second time in two days. Only this time her fingers lingered lightly on his face.

Before he could stop her, she kissed his lips softly. He had a suspicion he knew why she did it: a combination of needing to prove herself and needing him without the struggle of saying it. He tasted wine on her breath and decided he had allowed her to drink too much tonight.

He didn't realise he had kissed her back until he forced some distance between them. He was alarmed to see the shine of tears on her face. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have done that," she whispered.

"Don't worry about it," he told her gently, wiping her tears away with his thumb. It was at times like this that she seemed delicate and fragile to him, and he was, as mad as it sounded, almost afraid of breaking her. "Are you alright?"

She nodded and said, "Goodnight, Henrik."

He opened the unlocked door for her and replied, "Goodnight, Serena."

* * *

**Hope this is alright! **

**Please feel free to review ****and tell me your thoughts!**

**Sarah x**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I'm hoooooooooome. And jetlagged. Not fun. This chapter is probably ridiculously sweet but that's what happens when I'm tired ;) thank for all the reviews, as always!**

**Sarah x**

* * *

Serena sighed. Over a week had passed now since she had embarrassed herself with her weakness at her front door. What had possessed her to kiss him, to put herself in such a compromising position, she felt she would never really understand. She had seen the look in his eyes in the AAU office that morning. She remembered trying to prove to him that she wasn't damaged goods. She'd seen something in him she had never seen before.

And she did not forget that, however briefly, he had kissed her back. To her amazement, though, he had not gone cold on her; he was still speaking to her.

Accepting her fate of working on Keller today rather than her original plan of hiding with paperwork and coffee as her only company, she chucked her bag and coat carelessly into the office.

She wandered back to the main bulk of Keller, standing at the door and taking everything in. She went to fiddle with her necklace and them remembered it had been taken when she was attacked and had not yet been recovered. Chantelle and Arthur were on today, Serena the only consultant since the ward was, for once, relatively quiet.

It was her birthday today. Not that she really cared. Not that Eleanor really cared either. They hadn't spoken since that argument over the phone that fateful night in Brighton. Serena was still keeping everything she could from her daughter; how was she even meant to approach that subject?

Eleanor was due back on Sunday night, and Serena felt guilty for dreading it. Not all the bruises were gone, though they came across as mild enough for her to lie them away. But she was not looking forward to having to hold it together in her own home for the sake of someone else. She felt selfish for it but she felt that way about her own daughter's presence.

"Good morning, Nurse Lane," she sighed. "Dr. Digby," she added, nodding at him briefly before raking through a stack of files. They seemed surprised into silence. Perhaps Sacha had been right; maybe she really was frightening. "_Oh, good morning, Ms. Campbell_," she took on their side of the conversation mockingly as she rolled her eyes. "_How are you on this lovely summer morning?_" she continued sarcastically. "I'm fine thanks. You?"

She looked up from the files to see them looking rather stunned at her. Had she really been _that_ subdued since her return? "Don't worry. I've not gone insane. Yet," she added, prompting a relieved beam from Chantelle. Wow. She must have lost her sense of humour until today.

"That was left there for you, Ms. Campbell," Chantelle said cheerfully, pointing at an oddly shaped though neatly wrapped lilac package tied in pale pink ribbon placed on the top of the nurses' station.

"Thanks," Serena whispered, her voice almost failing her. Nobody knew. Hanssen only knew because he'd been presumably snooping in her files. She was not stupid enough to tell anyone it was her birthday today. She picked up the package; it was surprisingly weighty. Not particularly hefty, but heavier than it looked at first sight.

She carefully opened it and her breath caught in her throat in surprise. She thought back to listening to music with Hanssen in the car. She had told him she had had to leave her music in the US. He _had_ to be behind this.

She flicked through them all. CDs and old LPs. All Rosanne Cash ones. All the ones she had once owned. Even a couple she hadn't. It must have cost him a small fortune to find all these. Some were over thirty years old. Her face broke into a smile – the first true smile since she returned to Holby – and she felt hot tears running down her cheeks. Cursing her already fragile emotions, she wiped them away.

"Are you OK?" Chantelle piped up. She nodded, not trusting her vocal cords not to betray the emotion that simple gesture raised in her.

She was put into a further state of shock when Chantelle hugged her. "Why are you giving me the world's most bone-crushing cuddle, Chantelle?" she drawled, remembering how unpleasant she had been to the young woman, and how little affection her behaviour had earned from her.

"Because you're crying!" she exclaimed like it was obvious.

"I'm not crying because I'm sad, you silly girl," Serena laughed, squeezing Chantelle almost as she was doing to the consultant. "I'm crying because it's the nicest thing anyone's done for me in a long time."

"Yeah, but you're not _meant_ to cry. You're not Ms. Campbell if you're crying."

Serena just laughed into Chantelle's neck for a moment and retorted, "Well, I'm still Ms. Campbell and Ms. Campbell has work to do once she's pulled her sorry arse into gear."

Chantelle eventually released her. "Sorry," she smiled. "You've just been a little bit...well, it's nice to have the old Ms. Campbell back."

"I've not gone anywhere," she contradicted as Digby nervously scurried away when he heard the personal route the conversation was taking. Chantelle didn't answer back but Serena knew what she was getting at. She had caught Chantelle watching her from afar a good few times, keeping an eye on the woman who had made her life miserable for something everyone – including Serena – knew had not really been Chantelle's fault. "You're a good girl," Serena smiled. "I should never have doubted you."

She looked taken aback but replied, "It's fine. All over and done with now." She picked up some of the CD and LPs and asked Serena, "What's all this?"  
"A friend and I are...accepting our age," she smiled cryptically.

"You're not old," Chantelle waved away her comment. "Everyone feels a bit old on their birthday."

"How do you know it's my birthday?!" Serena demanded.

"Mr. Hanssen told me."

"Did he now?"

"Yep."

"I'm going to kill him."

She wandered away humming to herself as she made her way to bed six and made a mental note to corner Hanssen before he could embarrass her anymore.

That chance came up when they ended up in theatre together. "You've been very naughty," she told him. He glanced up from their patient in surprise so she clarified, "You know. When you left a present and blabbed to Chantelle Lane about what day it is today."

"I have no idea what you are referring to," he answered; she saw the smirk in his eyes the surgical mask hid.

"Finding all that can't have been easy," she added. "Or cheap," she raised an accusing eyebrow at him.

"To see you smile is worth the effort," he replied. She knew he had not meant to be so honest. She had done the same thing herself a few times recently in the exhaustion, both physical and mental, that she had been feeling.

"If I get ambushed with balloons and a cake, you will be punished."

It was the most at ease she had felt in what felt like years but was in reality only two weeks. She was only just beginning to let that guard down and only to those too innocent or in Hanssen's case too wise to try and hurt her. Effectively that left her with Sacha, Chantelle and Hanssen. She was now beginning to believe she could be something like her former self once more if she remembered who would hurt her and who would not.

"I forgot to say," Henrik began, and Serena did not like the tone of forgetful innocence in her voice. "There's a rumour going around that Nurse Lane has had Albie's Bar decorated to resemble the seventh circle of hell in honour of the Devil herself."

"You're pushing your luck," she accused but she could not keep the smile out of her voice. He was making a real effort and she was extremely grateful. "Though I wouldn't put it past her. I don't understand her sometimes. She grabbed me and gave me the tightest cuddle this morning."

"Why?"

She ignored his quest because she didn't want to admit she had cried at his kindness ad continued, "Even after all I put her through concerning my mother, she's still nice to me."

"That is just in Nurse Lane's nature," he complacently replied.

"I'd noticed," she smirked to herself. "It's almost like you _want_ to torture me. Telling Chantelle. Leaving a gift on Keller for me."

"Didn't you like it?"

"Of course I did. I love it," she admitted. "It may well be the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me. My reaction, however, was extremely embarrassing," she went on, deciding Chantelle would have told everyone and it would reach Henrik's ears soon enough. "I burst into tears when I realised what you'd done."

"I apologise."

"Don't. Happy tears."

"I'm glad to hear it." It was said with a smugness that made her want to slap him. Last time she had slapped him for his lack of trust and feeling. Today she wanted to slap him for embarrassing her and being so pleased with himself over it. "I have something else for you in my office."

She didn't like the sound of that. What was he up to now?

Nevertheless, she went against her worry and followed him upstairs after surgery, closing the office door behind them. She waited for him to tell her what his intentions were but he remained silent until he stood before her, dangling a familiar piece of jewellery in front of her. "This was found among Adam Cross' belongings. The police sent everything they found to me."

He stood behind her and put it gently around her neck, his fingers brushing her skin as he fastened it. "Thank you," she said. This, she remembered, was why she had wanted him so much that night he had taken her to dinner. Beneath his cold exterior lay a soft heart, and he had chosen to let her see it. She felt that pull again just now, knowing he was mere inches from her. He had confused her feelings for him. She still trusted him, but she was no longer wary of him, and she found she wanted him to go with the instinct she knew he felt.

She turned to face him and saw his soft smile as he gazed down on her. When he touched her face with the tips of his fingers she noticed her bruises were healing; they were no longer painful to touch. The internal gashes were turning into dull aching scars already – the best she could have hoped for.

His face was only a couple of inches from hers and a fear of the unknown washed over her. "Henrik," she warned quietly. Despite the fear, though, her hand was already on the back of his neck, her fingers in his hair. Her breath hitched slightly when his lips touched hers. "Is this my birthday kiss?" she whispered.

"Yes."

He kissed her again. She pulled him in this time, kissing him with all she had. All the pain, all the fear, all the happiness, all the passion she had left in her. It wasn't much, and nothing compared to what he had done for her, but he didn't seem to care. He just kissed her, his arms around her as he held her tight.

She could hear his heavy breathing and felt the nervous way his lips moved against hers; she realised how strange it sounded from the man who personified calm. To hear him lose the total control he had so perfectly exercised over himself was odd.

"Happy Birthday," he said when he broke apart from her.

"Thank you," she replied, startled by the breathlessness in her voice. It had shocked her, but at the same time he had made her feel strong. She didn't need him as much as she had done a week ago, but she wanted him more. She could stand on her own but she didn't want to. She wanted _him_.

It amazed and frightened her that she wanted him. She wiped her lipstick from his mouth with her thumb, bringing a smirk to his lips. She laughed to hide her nerves, hoping he couldn't see through her as he had a knack for doing. She stepped away and opened the door.

Before she left, she said, "I mean it. If there's a cake waiting for me on Keller, you're a dead man walking."

* * *

**Hope this is alright!  
Please feel free to review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Hello again :) This, I'm not so sure about. You may not trust me afterwards. Thank you for all your lovely reviews - much appreciated, as always!**

**Sarah x**

* * *

"But Serena lets us eat at meetings!" Jac Naylor protested loudly. "I _need_ my chocolate!" It was possibly the single most immature thing Henrik had ever heard leave Jac's mouth. She was holding in her hands an enormous bar of chocolate.

"Firstly, I am not Ms. Campbell," he said sternly. "Secondly, I do not allow my staff to eat at meetings. It's an unnecessary distraction. And lastly, _that_ can hardly be described as chocolate," he finished, eyeing the massive block of sugar, cocoa and milk she seemed so attached to with slight disgust. He had never understood how people could eat something so sweet all the time.

"Henrik," he heard Serena warn behind him. The use of his first name did not bring any attention to them; everyone had grow used to it over the past month. He ignored her and went to take the chocolate from Jac.

"If you value that hand, I suggest you back away slowly," Jac snapped. Hanssen was slightly taken aback. It seemed a pregnant Jac Naylor was even more formidable than the regular one.

"Henrik, never _ever_ try and take chocolate away from a pregnant woman," Serena said. "She may just kill you."

Finally heeding Serena's warning – since she probably knew from experience – Hanssen sat down, receiving an apologetic look from Jonny Maconie. As Serena sat next to him, she felt distant. Though they had grown closer, in the past few days Serena had distanced herself from him, refusing to address the issue of their 'birthday kiss' two weeks ago. In fact, she refused to address anything at all.

She leaned away from him slightly. It was confusing. She had become familiar with him, using his first name and giving out impudence like it was going out of fashion. She was, however, pulling that guard of hers up again, and he couldn't work out why. He had thought they had overcome that problem.

She met his eyes and it dawned on him that she was hiding something from him. From everyone. What, he had no idea. He had thought there was nothing left for her to hide from him.

Her recent behaviour in the past three days had been erratic, and that was being polite. In that time, she had sworn at Michael Spence in temper, stormed off AAU after an argument with Mary-Claire Carter, shouted at Elliot Hope for forgetting to email her and scared Arthur Digby into hiding for over three hours.

Something new was bothering her.

"Mr. Hanssen?" Jonny's voice pulled him back to the meeting. "Everything OK?"

"Yes, thank you, Nurse Maconie," he replied, hastily getting the meeting started. It seemed pregnancy was making Jac cocky, even more than usual, when she put her feet up on the table eating chocolate. "Miss Naylor, is that really necessary?" he sighed when it started to grate on his nerves.

She raised a challenging eyebrow at him. "Jac, you're pushing your luck. He's let you have your chocolate. Feet off the table," Serena ordered the arrogant redhead in an almost motherly fashion. Jac obeyed with a scowl while Mo and Jonny were trying not to laugh at her. Serena grinned at Henrik, silently telling him to let it go and not provoke a hormonal Jac Naylor.

"You don't help yourself, do you?" Jonny snorted.

Just then, the door to the conference room burst open. A teenage girl stood in the doorway with a two-litre bottle of Coke. "Ellie?" Serena said, sounding extremely shocked. So. This was Serena's daughter. This was going to be fun.

"Hello, _Mum_," she sneered mockingly. She seemed a little disorientated. Drunk.

"What on Earth are you doing here?" Serena demanded, getting to her feet and pulling her cardigan habitually over her chest. "You should be studying. That is, after all, the idea of the school giving you study leave."

"Why study when I can have all the fun I want?" she laughed, opening the bottle of Coke and taking a swig from it. Serena snatched it from her and when Eleanor tried to get it back, she passed it behind her to Henrik. He opened it and sniffed, retreating quickly when the smell abused his senses – vodka. There was more vodka than cola by the smell of it.

"Please tell me you didn't drive here," Serena was almost begging her daughter.

"What do you think I am, a fucking idiot?!" Eleanor yelled. "Of course I didn't bloody well drive!"

Hanssen felt a tense silence fall onto the room. Everyone was frozen in their seats, too frightened by Serena's obviously rising temper to say or do anything. "Watch your language, young lady!" Serena answered her. "You're grounded for four weeks. One week for getting drunk, one for not doing your school work, one for swearing at me and one for turning up here in this state."

"Piss off," Eleanor laughed. Henrik hoped the girl didn't speak to her mother this way when she was sober.

"Five weeks!" Serena shouted.

"You can't control me, you stupid woman," the girl leered at Serena, who momentarily looked extremely hurt.

"Want a bet?" Serena retorted. "Six weeks. No phone. No TV. No iPad. Laptop only for studying. No friends in the house. Want to go for seven?!" she shouted, her temper so wildly out of control that nobody, not even Henrik, dared to try and reign her in.

Hanssen glanced around him; Jonny, Jac, Elliot and Mo looked torn between horror and disgust. Michael had his head in his hands like he was losing the will to live. Chrissie and Sacha were exchanging dark looks with each other. Ric Griffin was watching on expressionlessly, but clearly wanting to intervene and not knowing how to without the risk of being slapped. Chantelle looked rather frightened by the mother and daughter.

And Hanssen was helpless. He couldn't intervene.

"Go down to Keller," Serena ordered Eleanor, her tone flat and deadly. "Find Arthur Digby. He'll take you to my office. Go with him and do _not_ move."

"You should know by now," Eleanor laughed a horrible, bitter, pained laugh. "I'm not so easy to get rid of. I go when _I_ want to. You can't make me do anything."

"Oh, really?"

Serena tried to take her uncontrollable daughter by the wrists and force her out the room before she could do any more damage than she'd already done. Eleanor, however, shoved her mother away with more for than Hanssen expected her body possessed; Serena fell back onto the floor before anyone could catch her. Hanssen reached his hand down to her but she pushed it away, too proud to accept help in front of her own flesh and blood.

"So, which one of them is it?" Eleanor demanded. "The American? The Swede? The Scot?"

Michael and Jonny looked at Serena and Hanssen for an explanation. Hanssen couldn't give them one and merely mirrored their look of confused horror. "What?!" Serena demanded, sounding equally confused as all her colleagues and friends were.

"Who've you been shagging? It has to be somebody here. There's nothing out of the ordinary on your phone and laptop."

"You went through my-" Serena started to shout, cut off by Eleanor's bitter laugh.

"Of course I did. What's good to give is good to take!" she replied.

"The difference is that you are my daughter and I am protecting you. Going through my phone and laptop is completely out of line!" Serena yelled, well and truly out of control.

There was something more to this. Henrik refused to believe the girl would do this to her mother unless something had shocked her into it. "WHO?!" Eleanor screamed. She dodged around Serena was stumbled near the other end of the table, prompting Jac and Jonny to catch her before she fell.

"Be careful!" Serena barked protectively as Jac and Jonny struggled to keep Eleanor upright after falling over.

"What's going on?" Henrik whispered to Serena. She didn't answer. He could tell she _couldn't_ answer him.

Eleanor leaned back against the wall and pulled something out of her pocket. It was a small white stick; suddenly it all made sense to Henrik. "Which one of you lot got my mother knocked up?"

Serena finally met Henrik's gaze and whispered, "I'm so sorry for this."

It all clicked together. Serena was pregnant. Despite her considerable age, and against all the medical and biological odds, her suffering was to continue. _That_ was why she had distanced herself. _That _was why she had turned into a headcase recently. _That_ was why she was taking it upon herself to verbally abuse anyone who came within a hundred feet of her. It was almost like she was cursed.

"Come on then!" Eleanor shouted wildly, her true pain finally coming to light at the realisation she had been kept in the dark about everything. "What about you, Mr. Griffin? You and her been at it recently?"

"Of course not!" Ric answered calmly. "Your mum is my friend. Nothing more or less."

"Eleanor, you've got the wrong end of-" Serena tried to object but Eleanor was beyond reason now. She was drunk, upset and looking for answers.

"SHUT UP!" she bellowed, silencing everyone.

"Please, just listen to me!"

"Why? Why should I listen to the woman who does nothing but _lie_?"

"Because it's complicated!" Serena shouted, dangerously close to spilling everything they'd been through together in front of their colleagues. After all that, after struggling to keep it together, he couldn't bear to see her fall at this hurdle.

"What about you, Jock?" Eleanor demanded. "Been cheating on your skinny ginger girlfriend? One pregnant woman not enough for you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Jonny retorted. "Ms. Campbell is my boss and, to be quite honest with you, I'm bloody terrified of her!" he explained, shooting a look of apology at Serena. "If she and Jac are both pregnant I'm going back to Scotland for the next nine months!" he joked, attempting to diffuse the situation with his sparkling wit. He was remarkably calm in face face of being accused of sleeping with Serena Campbell. More so than Ric had been.

"What about you, Michael Spence? She's got a bit of a soft spot for you."

The girl was well informed, knowing probably from her mother who everyone was. Her hand fell almost threateningly on Michael's shoulder and Henrik felt himself become protective of Serena yet again.

"You really think I'd get involved with Serena Campbell like that? She's a brilliant, beautiful woman, and she's kept my head straight a few times," he paid Serena an unexpected compliment, "but she'd eat me alive, spit me out and chew me up again just to make a point! Hell, she does it just to motivate me to get off my ass!"

"Ellie," Serena tried to calm her daughter down yet again. "You've got it wrong."

"Really?" Eleanor snarled across the table. "Because it seems pretty obvious to me. You've been going behind my back. Easily seen what you were up to while I was away!"

"Look, it's not what it seems."

Hanssen only saw one way to spare Serena having to expose her hurt and trauma in front of everyone. His idea would be marginally less painful for her than the alternative of telling the truth. "I've had enough of this," Henrik stated bluntly.

"Oh, yes. The Grim Reaper himself. The Angel of Death," Eleanor laughed drunkenly. "Of course you've had enough. Makes you look like an idiot for promoting her to Clinical Executive when it turns out she'll sleep with anyone without a care in the bloody world! Look at her! She's only upset because she got caught."

"Eleanor Campbell!" Serena shouted at the top of her voice, making everyone, even Henrik and Jac, jump. "That is _enough_!"

"Is that so? I haven't even-"

"It's me!" Henrik shouted and stood up, his hands shaking and his heart racing, just wanting an end to this situation. If that meant lying to save Serena from having to explain the horrific truth. "I slept with your mother," he lied.

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to review and tell me what you thought!  
Sarah x**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Hello, my lovely friends :) I'm sorry for what I did last chapter. I seem to have shocked you all. Thank you for all your kind reviews though!**

**Sarah x**

* * *

Serena stood paralysed. Her daughter stood drunk behind Michael Spence. Henrik stood nervously behind Serena. "Henrik," she whispered. "Don't do this to yourself."

He could not possibly be so _stupid_. Protecting her was one thing. Telling everyone a huge lie to spare her the heartache of telling truth was completely another matter.

The silence fell like a heavy, suffocating blanket on the room. Michael looked shocked. Chantelle looked like she couldn't believe it. Jac looked astounded, her mouth hanging open in shock. Jonny, however, was blatantly sceptical as he shared a look with Mo; the two had been best friends so long that they had their own little language Serena couldn't even understand. But there was one thing she could see from Jonny: he knew better. It was obvious.

A ringing phone shattered the silence. "Hello?" Jonny answered. "Aye, alright, Dr. Digby. Calm down...they're not picking up because we're in a meeting...we'll be down in a minute," he promised Arthur. "Mr. Hanssen, Ms. Campbell," he announced. "Your domestic's gonna have to wait. We're needed on Keller. Your patient's crashed," he explained. Serena knew which one – the one she had ordered a CT consult on earlier today.

"You stay here," she ordered a shocked, silent Eleanor. "I'll be back soon. And don't give anyone any hassle." She received no reply so added to Michael, experienced in dealing with teenage girls, "You have my full permission to shout at her should she cause any trouble. Same goes for you, Jac," she said to the redhead in the knowledge that Jac Naylor had it in her to scare Eleanor silent if she kicked off.

They ambled out of the room quickly, Serena and Hanssen striding down the corridor as she cursed his stupidity under her breath. "Oi!" Jonny shouted after them. "There's nothing happened on Keller. I got Mo to phone me."

"Oh, so that's what that look was about," Hanssen replied, coming to stand in front of Jonny. Surprisingly he was not angry at Jonny. He seemed almost grateful. Serena should have known. She'd pulled a similar stunt to save Malick's arse before, hadn't she?

"Why?!" Serena demanded.

"I'm stopping you two from making the biggest mistake of your lives," Jonny explained earnestly. "Don't lie. Lying will only get you in an even worse predicament than you're in now," he tried to convince them.

Realisation struck Serena. "You told him?!" she rounded on Hanssen, who looked rather frightened of being on the receiving end of her wrath. Momentarily she felt guilty but she was too angry and hurt for it to last long.

"I knew as soon as I saw you that morning," Jonny hastily intervened. "That baby you're carrying, Ms. Campbell, isn't Mr. Hanssen's and you both know it. Don't do this. I'm telling you. It'll end in disaster!"

"Oh, yes, because everything's just bloody peachy right now!" she shouted at him in her frustration. "Plus the moron's said it now anyway!"

"You can get out of it," Jonny insisted. "He didn't say the baby's his. He said he slept with you. Just tell the truth."

"I can't!" she almost screamed. She was suddenly aware of her tears and hastily and angrily, feeling weak and silly for crying. She felt Hanssen's hand on her back, and she looked up at his face sharply. Why was he still here? Why hadn't he abandoned her?

"Jonny's right," Henrik sighed. "It would do no good to lie to Eleanor any further. We would only be digging a hole for ourselves."

Serena felt smothered with no way out but in her heart – what was left of it – she knew they were both doing right by her. It was touching to know Jonny, who openly admitted he was terrified by her, was looking out for her before she could make an even bigger mess of her life. She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in despair. The news that she was expecting a second child still hadn't sunk in, so how could she explain it to everyone else without lying to ease the heartache?

"They won't understand."

It was her only get-out clause.

"Jac will," Jonny piped up. "If anyone will understand, it's Jac." Serena glared at him for his input but he did not falter. "I'm asking you to trust me here, Ms. Campbell. They'll understand. They won't hate you or think you're awful or any of the other things you're afraid of. Saying it makes it real and making it real forces you to face it."

"I'm not afraid."

"Liar," he smiled gently. Hanssen was standing silent by her side, letting Jonny convince her of the things he had tried to weeks ago and she hadn't listened to him. To hear it from an outsider, from someone who had not been there, it made more sense than ever before. But he was also right: she was lying when she said she wasn't afraid. She was absolutely terrified of telling he truth. So much that, in the last month, everything everyone saw from her was nothing but a lie.

She breathed in and out, remembering what Hanssen had told her in that dimly lit office when she had succumbed to this kind of terrorised panic. She hadn't noticed she was shaking with fear until now.

"Jonny, can you give us a moment?" she asked, her eyes shut tight as she drew the strength and courage to tell the truth. For once in her life she needed to be courageous, if not for her then for Eleanor and for Henrik.

"Course," he replied. She heard the door shut behind him.

"Why?" she demanded. "Why did you do something so utterly reckless?" she asked, opening her eyes up to see his expression. After all, she was not his responsibility. In the past three days she had practically terrorised every ward of this hospital with her anger and fear, so she had no right to expect help from him.

"Because your daughter wanted an answer and it was obvious you couldn't tell her the truth," he explained, as if it was totally obvious.

"That doesn't necessitate in you putting yourself in the firing line."

"Yes, it does. It was me buying you some time. And if you had needed it I would have kept going with the lie," he confessed. That shocked her. For a man who, a month ago, couldn't stand the sight of her, he was being exceptionally kind to her when she needed him. She was not easy to deal with. She knew that. And yet he was still trying to be there for her, even though in the past few days all she had done was push him out.

"You're an idiot," she stated what she believed to be fact. "How stupid do you have to be to tell a woman's daughter, _my _daughter, that you slept with me when we both know you didn't?! And you make it so bloody hard for me to be angry at you right now."

"Don't be angry," he replied. "It doesn't get you anywhere. Be strong." She felt him press a kiss onto the top of her head; she knew now that whatever decision she she made about this was one he would not judge her on. She was not alone now.

She took a tentative step forward, his hand on her back with every excruciating step she took. What had she done to deserve him standing by her?

Her hand lingered only a moment too long on the door handle, showing the cracks she couldn't quite cover up. As she stepped into the rooms she felt all eyes fall onto her, most people looking shocked, some – Jac, Elliot and Michael, who had seen her façade broken – with concern. "He lied. Mr. Hanssen lied," she forced out. "We haven't slept together."

"Then why-" Jac began to ask but Serena cut her off.

"Because the man's the world's biggest moron," she said, making Jac, Jonny and a couple other laugh. "He thought he could spare my feelings if he lied so I didn't have to tell the truth." Her eyes, for the first time since returning to the room, fell on Eleanor. Silent tears were rolling down the girl's face, black tears marring her pale cheeks. "I suppose it would have come out one way or another anyway," she sighed, sitting on the edge of the table. "Do you remember about a month ago, Henrik and I went to Brighton?"

There was a general agreement throughout the room so she took a deep breathe. _Breathe in, breathe out_, she reminded herself. "There was an...incident. We don't remember very much. We both got knocked out and beat up. We only remember quick film cuts and can't quite piece it together," she rambled on, like saying pointless words would take the pain out of what she was trying to tell them.

"Oh, no," Jac groaned, cottoning on quickly. She sat up straighter and Serena met her eyes and knew she had worked it out. "Serena, were you raped? Is that how you've ended up pregnant?" she asked, and she seemed on the edge of tears herself. Serena made her head move up and down once, and the effort that simple movement took was unreal.

She looked over at Eleanor. Why, why did she have to burst in here like this? When this could have been done their own home, in her own time, and not front of everyone she knew, why had Eleanor done this? The usual reason – drink.

Neither of them were angry anymore. Only in agony. Serena opened her arms, knowing her daughter needed her right now. Her own emotions had to be put to one side as Eleanor half-ran around the table, stumbling behind Jac, who stood up and supported her until she reached her mother's arms.

Suddenly, Serena was the one doing the comforting. "I'm so sorry, darling," she whispered in Eleanor's ear.

"You have a rational explanation," she heard Hanssen say. "I suggest we abandon this meeting and reconvene at ten o'clock tomorrow morning." It was his unfailingly polite way of telling them to bugger off. They didn't need told not to gossip. They all knew better, even naïve young Chantelle.

"Oh-one-two-one-do-one," Jonny translated. "Got it."

Everyone bar Hanssen left as Serena held Eleanor tight. She felt a few hands fall on her shoulder in support. Whose, she was unsure, but she was grateful nonetheless. She felt Eleanor crying in her arms as the truth sobered her up and she realised what she had done. "I'm sorry, Mum," she sobbed. "I'm so fucking stupid!"

"Language," she warned, hearing a low chuckle from behind her.

"Pot and kettle, Serena," Hanssen said, reminding her of her own tendency to swear when she panicked, perfectly demonstrated from the way she treated Hanssen when they woke in that garage.

"What are you gonna do about it?" Eleanor asked quietly, gripping Serena like she was going to vanish into thin air. "Are you keeping it?"

"I can't kill a child," Serena asserted, her voice coming out in nothing more than a broken murmur. "No matter who it's father is." From the moment she had seen that positive test she had known in her heart that she would keep her child. "You understand that, don't you, Ellie?" she whispered. Eleanor's head nodded against her chest and she smiled sadly.

She felt Henrik kiss her hair lightly and reach around to squeeze Ellie's shoulder before he left them alone in a silence broken only by their tears.

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to review and tell me what you think of it!  
Sarah x**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: 3:30am...what is wrong with me?! :****O Anyway, this is a little bit cute and a little bit sad but I hope it's OK. Thank you, as always, for all your kind comments :)**

**Sarah x**

* * *

Hanssen decided at five o'clock that he was going to take Serena and Eleanor home; he didn't like the idea of Serena driving when she clearly wasn't able to think straight. Knowing her recent luck she would end up wrapped around a tree.

A pregnant Serena was almost as absurd an idea as a pregnant Jac Naylor, but the bottom line was that they both were and for the next nine months he had a feeling he and Jonny would suffer greatly at their hormonal hands. How he was going to survive this place when the two most volatile women here were pregnant, he had no idea. The prospect rather frightened him.

He knocked on Serena's office door and stepped in. "Come on," he ordered them. "I'll take you home."

"You don't have to wrap me in cotton wool," she retorted as Eleanor stood up.

"I know," he smiled. She gave him the ghost of a smile.

"I'm just going to tell Ric I'm going home early," she said. "If I'm not back in ten minutes then I've killed him."

Eleanor gave a still half-cut giggle as her mother left. When Henrik looked around, though, her eyes were shining with fresh tears she refused to shed in front of Serena. "Are you alright?" he felt compelled to ask. The spitting image of her mother in that moment she wiped her eyes hastily.

"Yes, Mr. Hanssen," she replied. "Look, I'm sorry for what I did earlier. There's a reason Mum tries not to let me drink and _that_ would be it."

"It's understandable," he allowed. "Even if I do not approve of your actions, I still am able to understand them."

They stood in silence for a couple of minutes, neither one knowing what to say to the other. It was only then that she broke the silence with a heavy sigh. She obviously didn't know him very well from the rants he knew Serena took about him, or maybe her alcohol-clouded mind thought it was acceptable, but she stepped towards him and wrapped her arms around him, clearly seeking comfort from someone strong enough to give her it. Serena had very little left in her and Eleanor didn't seem willing to take that from her.

"Thank you," she whispered as she rested her cheek against his chest.

"For?"

"For keeping my mum in one piece."

"I'm extremely glad I managed it," he confessed, allowing his arms to wrap around her thin body.

"She adores you, you know," Eleanor stated sleepily. Tiredness was making her body weak in his arms. "She rambles on about you being an arse sometimes but she likes you really. The past two weeks it's been 'Henrik this' and 'Henrik that...'"

"Really?" he asked, a bit surprised that Serena had talked about him in a way that didn't involve fantasies of the many ways she could kill him.

"Uh-huh," she mumbled. "I asked last night where all the CDs and records came from and she burst out crying."

"Yes, I would get used to that if I were you," he smiled to himself. "Pregnant women tend to cry at nothing a lot. And your mother's temper is nasty at the best of times. I don't envy you having to live with her."

"Can I come and live with you till it's over?" she joked, bringing a laugh from him.

The door opened and Serena stepped in, a smile on her face as she saw her daughter in Henrik's arms. "Come on then," she sighed, guiding Eleanor out the door. Henrik picked up his coat and briefcase and followed them, feeling very strange about this whole situation. Here he was – Henrik Hanssen, friendless friend of no-one – taking care of a woman he wasn't sure of. He didn't know why he was doing it. He just felt he had to. Who else was going to do it? Who else would she allow to do it? Nobody. And anyway, she wasn't so bad.

He unlocked the car and got in, letting the engine tick over a minute before setting off. "Have you got your seatbelt on, Ellie?" Serena asked.

"Yeah," she mumbled. Henrik looked in the mirror to see the girl rapidly succumbing to the sleepiness he had heard in her voice earlier. As he pulled away from the hospital he contemplated the next step he would take. He had two choices: back off from them or stand by them. The former was particularly appealing simply because he was always one to run away from heartache. The latter, however, was not something he would find always pleasant but something he found himself determined to do.

This baby...if he was truthful with himself he wasn't sure if Serena could cope. She was too fragile just now.

They arrived at Serena's home to find Eleanor had fallen asleep in the back seat. "Ellie," Serena said.

"Shh," Henrik hushed her quietly. "If you wake her now she may not go back to sleep." She gave him an odd look as he got out the car and opened the back passenger side carefully as he made sure Eleanor didn't fall out of the car. He picked her up while Serena unlocked the front door; they took her to her room, Henrik laying her on the bed while Serena pulled the covers over her.

"Sweet dreams, darling," Serena whispered and pressed a soft kiss onto her forehead. "Love you to the moon and back."

She guided him from the room, heading downstairs. "Are you alright?" he asked her. "Truthfully?" They sat down on the sofa together, side by side as they found themselves so often recently.

"I don't know," she replied uncertainly. "Regardless, I need to be strong for Eleanor."

"And who's going to be strong for you?" he challenged her.

The weakness in her eyes almost shocked him until he reminded himself it was only to be expected; he would have been more worried if she had showed no emotion at all. "I was rather hoping you'd do that for me." He gave a small smile. "How did it come to this?" she sighed.

"You know how."

He watched her carefully; through this whole ordeal she had never been defeated. She had been broken, bruised, torn, ripped apart...never defeated. Until now. Now she seemed to accept the reality in front of her without a hint of a fight. He didn't like it. Since when did Serena lie down and take what was thrown at her?

"I've never needed anyone," she said quietly. "But now I do. Henrik, I can't do this on my own. I might pretend I'm infallible but..." she trailed away.

"You're not on your own."

He'd made the decision. He wasn't backing off. How could he do that to her?

Her smile lit the room when she realised he wasn't going anywhere. "I don't deserve you," she asserted. He felt her fingers on his face, her eyes boring into his. What was she doing? What was she thinking? What was she feeling?

For a moment he thought he had imagined it, but she gently brushed her lips against his like she was seeing how he would react. He kissed her carefully, his hand on the back of her head. "What was that for?" he asked her when they broke apart.

She smiled gently and said, "For being the idiot ready to risk his career to save me from a little pain."

"Come here, you silly woman," he sighed and put his arm around her shoulders. She willingly hunkered into him, her head on his chest and her arm draped around his waist. "What did you expect me to do?"

"Let the runaway train crash."

"I would never do that."

"Of course you wouldn't."

He ran his hand up and down her arm soothingly, hoping to get her to dispel all her stress. The dramatic change in her almost frightened him; before she had been sociable and wickedly funny. Now she walked on eggshells around herself. He only hoped she regained that confidence and that sense of humour that defined her – it was her sparkling charm.

He smiled softly as he leaned his head down and kissed the end of her nose lightly; she giggled into his chest. "Henrik!" she protested. When she stopped laughing he felt that sombre aura return to her. A heavy, dark silence that was almost suffocating in its significance and pained torment.

"What's bothering you?" he asked when her silence became unnerving. He had seen now that silence was never a good thing coming from Serena.

"Do you want a list?" she sarcastically retorted. Well, at least the sarcasm was still there. It was a start. She remained silent for over a minute before she answered him. "What if my baby looks like him?" she asked. "It would be like looking at him all the time."

"And what if it looks like you?" he reminded her. "What if it has your pale skin and dark hair and eyes and your infamous glare? You can't know. Don't think of this child as his. It's yours. Nothing to do with him anymore."

Her quiet tears soaked through his shirt and he just squeezed her tight to his body. There was nothing else to do but hold her tight and make a joke. "I agree with Jonny. If you and Jac Naylor are pregnant at the same time, I'm going back to my own country."

"Wimp," she said; he felt her smile through her tears into his chest. "I'll be OK," she added decisively. "As long as I have Eleanor and I have you, I'll be OK."

"You would be OK even if we weren't here," he replied. "You would find a way. You always do." She wriggled slightly as she tried to make herself more comfortable; he pulled the blanket from the back of the sofa and wrapped her up in it. She almost looked like a child.

"Not today I wouldn't have done," contradicted Serena. "If you hadn't shocked them all into shutting up I would have made a huge mess. It bought enough time for Jonny to talk some sense into me." At least she now admitted she had needed sense talked into her in the first place.

They just sat there for a little while, each lost in their own thoughts. It crossed Henrik's mind that he really should have been home by now, and that Serena would need time on her own to sort her head out so he said, "I'll have to go home."  
"Stay," she ordered sleepily. "Just stay with me tonight. Please."

"At least let me go home and get some pyjamas then," he sighed. "I'll only be about half an hour, alright?" She nodded and let him free, but the way she looked at him was like she didn't fully trust that he was going to return to her. By the time he was in his car he was trying to get his head around all of this. The whole situation had exploded. Everyone knew. Everyone saw. And not to mention that Serena was now carrying a child.

It was only when he unlocked his own front door to retrieve some of his belongings that he found himself sure of the right path to take. He was going to be there if she needed him. He was going to be there if Eleanor needed someone and Serena didn't have the strength. He was going to be on the end of the phone when Serena inevitably would want to talk to someone in the early hours of the morning.

He had made a mess of standing by a woman the first time around. He wasn't going to make that mistake with Serena. She needed him too much. She had even admitted it. And for Serena Campbell to admit she needed help was a rare event; she would not have said it if she didn't mean it. And that was what worried him.

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to review and tell me your thoughts!  
Sarah x**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Hey, people! :) This chapter is a little bit of a turning point for Serena, I think - she's starting to accept the past and take a step forward. Also, I apologise for uploading, yet again, at about 2am. Looooooooooong day. Anyone who wants to pretend to be me for a little while, feel free. And thanks again to everyone who reads and/or leaves a review - I don't say this often enough but I love you all!**

**Sarah x**

* * *

Serena woke up suddenly. "Bed," Henrik Hanssen was ordering her. She must have fallen asleep while he was away getting his belongings. In a haze she allowed him to help her to her feet and up the stairs, and as she did so she came to the ultimate realisation that, while she would have loved to truthfully say otherwise, right now she did genuinely need him. She felt slightly guilt for it; she felt like she was just using him to survive.

But that wasn't the only reason for the guilt she harboured. She wasn't only needing and using him for her own survival. She wanted him around. She didn't just need him. She _wanted_ him. The feeling was so foreign to her that, as she took a pair of lilac pyjamas from him, she had to remind herself he was not attainable. A relationship with him was a ridiculous concept.

He left her alone and she focused herself on getting changed, brushing her teeth, wiping off her make up, a list of tasks that was not so easy when she was still half-asleep.

As she climbed into bed, bedside lamp still alight, her eyes fell on a photograph. It was herself and Eleanor almost a decade ago. Serena examined the image of her former self quite closely from her bed; her hair was far longer, her face younger and her eyes happier.

A knock on the door tore her attention away from the picture. "Yes, Henrik?" she sighed, his constant worry for her becoming a source of mild amusement now.

He walked in and sat on the edge of her bed. "Rough day," he commented quietly.

She gave a short laugh and replied, "No, do you think?!" She breathed out slowly, a little surprised that she just wanted him next to her. He was her only source of reliance right now; Eleanor would try her best but while her obstinacy mirrored her mother's her strength and will were only a fraction of what Serena had instilled in her through her nature and her experience. No, Eleanor was more like her father in that respect. Perhaps, in time, she would change but for now she wasn't capable of being confidant and reinforcement to her mother.

"What are you thinking?" he asked her gently.

"Just that I'm going to need your help," she admitted to only part of her train of thought. "Nothing I didn't say downstairs, really." She reached out for his hand. "Come and sleep here tonight."

She could almost feel his hesitation. He still thought her fragile, the very thing she wasn't. Her emotions, due to trauma and pesky hormones, were fragile. As a person, she wasn't fragile. She had been broken but the glue she was using to repair the cracks felt to her to be indestructible. "Don't do this to me," she sighed, burying her face into her pillow in what she realised too late was something her own teenage daughter was prone to doing in frustration.

"I'm not doing anything to you," he denied. She didn't doubt his confusion. While emotionally complex himself, she realised that when it came to other people's emotions he was both blind and a truly hopeless navigator.

"You are!" she argued. "You're walking on eggshells. I'm not going to break if you sleep in my bed, you know!"

The first occasion he had slept over in her house he had insisted on sleeping on the sofa and, feeling too exposed already, she had readily and willingly agreed with his decision. But over a month had passed. The relationship between them had morphed into something she barely even recognised.

"I'm not going to break at all."

It was a statement as easy to disprove as it was to prove. She had already been broken, and she admitted that, but she was healing. She was crawling to the other end of this tunnel as herself, the only person she wanted to be.

"Alright," he allowed, though she could see it was against his better judgement. He stood up and went downstairs to retrieve his belongings; Serena heard movement from the bathroom and sudden nerves forced her to her feet. She was suddenly restless. It wasn't that she didn't trust him – unexpectedly, she trusted the man implicitly when it came to her safety – but that she didn't know her own intentions well enough to trust her own motives.

Despite her experience, most of which was still a blank in her memory, she felt an instinctual pull and desire towards him.

She felt drawn to him. He frustrated her beyond belief but still she just wanted him to give in to her. Her desire for him had the potential to break the delicate bond between them. She knew that. But it didn't change anything. The sexual desire for him didn't change her current state of reliance on him. This attraction was nothing new; it was just stronger that it had ever been before.

The closing door made her start; Hanssen walked in, his caution clear in his stance, and stood before her. "What are you doing out of bed?" he asked. Her expression must have betrayed her feelings because he said, "I don't think that is a good idea." That stung a little – perhaps she had read him wrong. Perhaps he didn't want her and was only making sure she survived. "You would regret it," he added, dispelling that theory.

"I wouldn't."

"Oh, I can assure you you would."

After a moment's contemplation she could not deny his logic, regardless of whether she liked it or not. "No, no, you're right," she sighed, her fingers spread over her forehead. "It wouldn't be wise."

"A very bad idea."

"Terrible," she agreed.

"Dreadful."

She found her eyes locked on his. It all happened in a moment. She kissed him and, predictably, his self-control melted. She could feel his hand on the side of her neck, pulling her into him with his arm snaked around her waist. This was where she found herself feeling safest: in his arms.

Oddly, the feel of his lips crushing into hers didn't cloud her mind. It cleared it. She tried to ignore the fact she was pregnant, if only for tonight. To think about that made her feel less than attractive and her confidence wasn't in any state to survive another blow.

But with every fervent, fiery kiss they shared her self-esteem grew exponentially. "Told you I wouldn't break," she gasped breathlessly. He moved seamlessly with her while she pulled them as one towards the bed, yanking his dark grey t-shirt off him to reveal in thin torso.

She felt him kiss her throat and she had to remind herself it was Henrik, that she wasn't being forced, that this was what she had begun. It was almost proving it to herself when her arms wrapped around him and she allowed his hands to pull her t-shirt over her head.

They fell onto the bed together, and she felt his weight on her body, both guarding her and rescuing her.

* * *

When she woke the next morning, Serena woke alone despite not falling asleep that way. She reached out; the sheets were still warm so he was not long gone. She looked around, seeing their pyjamas strewn without care on the floor. Looking back she realised she had been a bit full on. Part of her had even wanted to know the extent to which he wanted to care for her. She had found herself surprised, she recalled, when she discovered that extent went as far as sex. She had been expecting him to put his foot down rather than give in.

The only thing she found herself more surprised at – more stunned than anything else – was the way she had felt. She had always assumed she would have seen it as just sex but she hadn't. His protest, saying she was bound to regret it, betrayed his own lack of confidence and his true care for her feelings.

She remembered vaguely foreign mutterings as she had fallen asleep with his strong, protective arm draped over her. Only a few words stuck in her mind and she was unsure of their meaning, or even if they were of any significance. For all she knew he could have been remembering he needed to buy milk in the morning or relaying his schedule to her.

There was only one phrase that particularly stuck: _vackra mod_. She had no idea what it meant and didn't doubt that she was never intended to know its meaning, which was why she would not pursue the matter.

She pulled the duvet up to her chin and closed her eyes when the door opened. She smelled coffee and the scent convinced her to open her eyes with the promise of caffeine if she complied.

"Morning," she mumbled. "Thanks," she added when Henrik handed her a mug. He was already dressed, washed and perfectly presentable, while she was still lying in bed bleary eyed, her body covered by only bedding.

"Are you alright?"

She rolled her eyes. "The next person to ask me that will be cheerfully beaten to a pulp. You have been warned."

"Not a morning person, I see," he teased.

"I have no problem with mornings!" she retorted, reaching out to slap his arm playfully. "Especially preceded with a night like _that_," she added, pleased to see she had brought a guilty pink flush to his cheeks at the memory. "You know, I swear you think I'm scared of having sex," she remarked, remembering his unnerving caution and reluctance last night. "There's nothing for me to be scared of. I know you wouldn't hurt me."

"Of course I wouldn't," he agreed thoughtfully.

By quarter to nine, Serena found she was sitting in the car with Hanssen as she stared up to the suddenly intimidating structure of Holby City Hospital.

She walked in with Hanssen side by side, no closer or further apart than they stood at any other time while here, and found all eyes trained on her as she waited outside the lift with him. News clearly travelled fast in this place then.

It was only when Mary-Claire Carter, with whom she had argued quite severely a few days before and had not resolved their tense working relationship, smiled tentatively at her that she finally accepted that everyone knew. Everyone knew she was pregnant. Everyone knew how she got that way. Everyone, to use her expression to Hanssen last night, was walking on eggshells.

"I'm still Serena Campbell, you know," she pointed out when she realised Mary-Claire was staring at her. "Same person I was yesterday."

"Sorry," the redhead quickly replied, retreating to the stairs. She clearly was not the brave woman she passed herself off as so arrogantly.

The metal doors opened and she and Hanssen stepped in to find Antoine Malick and Chantelle Lane giving her worried glances while they also shared a look of dark significance. It was rare for Chantelle to adorn such a look of darkness; it didn't suit her and Serena didn't like it.

Serena tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for the magic doors to freedom to open again, and muttered to Hanssen, "This is going to be a _long_ day."

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to review and tell me your thoughts!  
Sarah x**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Sorry this took a little while - busy week. Thanks to every who reads and reviews, as always :)**

**Sarah x**

* * *

Two months passed, and Hanssen soon found himself dealing with emotional outbursts on a daily basis, whether they came from Serena or Jac. Serena went from laughing to crying to shouting in a matter of a day; he found it quite unnerving when they woke together in the morning smiling and parted at night arguing.

Today he found himself working on Keller with her after Michael had called in sick and, for now at least, she was stable.

However, when she approached the nurses' station with with files piled in her arms and an annoyed look on her face, Chantelle quickly made herself look busy and left Henrik to deal with her, since he was sitting down facing her and could not make a quick escape. "What's wrong now?" he asked quietly.

"Nothing," she replied, her tone clipped and impatient.

"Oh, yes," he said. "It really does look like you're ecstatically happy."

"Deliriously so," she snapped. She leaned her head on her hand and explained, "Mary-Claire wants me on AAU but she's too scared to ask me so Harry had to do it."

"And you know this how?" Henrik demanded. It sounded rather convoluted.

"Harry told me," she replied. "Am I really that awful?!"

"No. Your hormones are."

"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence," she retorted, throwing down the files with a thud before she stormed away to AAU and left Hanssen to feel a bit stupid. It didn't matter what he said; it was always going to be the wrong thing, even if it was nothing but the truth.

"I think the answer she was looking for was, 'Not at all. You're lovely,'" Chantelle said behind him. She caught him by surprise so he startled slightly. "But it's OK. You weren't to know that."

"You haven't seen her at her worst yet," Hanssen commented, too worn out with Serena's ridiculous mood swings to bother about what he was saying to Chantelle. "One minute she's laughing, the next she's crying and then the next thing I know, she's shouting abuse at me." If he was going to get help anywhere, it would be from Chantelle, and she would give it without him asking. For a naïve, immature young woman, a surprising amount of disguised logic came from her mouth.

She sat on the desk and looked at him. "You know she doesn't really mean what she says," she reminded him. "Being pregnant is supposedly a rollercoaster ride in itself, not to mention all the other stuff she's got to deal with."

He sighed. He was lost. He had no idea how to help her anymore. He had done all he knew how to do now. It wasn't pleasant; he was sleeping in her bed and she wouldn't let him in. "I can't help her," he said to Chantelle, who just smiled an oddly knowing beam.

"You can."

"And how do you propose I do that?" he asked her, momentarily stunned by the pleading note in his voice.

"Ask her what's wrong and she'll tell you," Chantelle shrugged.

"She won't tell me," Hanssen sighed. "What good would that do?" He couldn't see how asking questions Serena hated to answer was going to help matters at all.

"I think she will tell you. She just wants to know you're still there for her," she replied. "She's difficult, I know. She was difficult before all this happened. But if you stick by her, she'll love you even more for taking everything she throws at you."

"She doesn't love me at all," he contradicted her. "The difference between needing someone and wanting them is about a million miles."

"Believe me, Mr. Hanssen," she smiled. "After what you've done for her, she loves you." She placed a hand gently on his shoulder when he could not find a reply. "Look, we'll be fine without you for half an hour. Go down to AAU and tell her you're sorry for offending her," she advised cheerily before she sauntered happily away to bed six.

He thought on it for a moment and decided Chantelle, as usual, was right. He saw why Serena was being volatile. It was a combination of the biological and the psychological. By the time he got down to AAU, whatever crisis they had been caught in had been averted and Serena was speaking quietly in the corner to Mary-Claire, so he sat down at the nurses' station and logged onto the computer, pretending to work as he waited for them to finish their conversation.

She patted Mary-Claire's shoulder and sent her back to work, which led Hanssen to believe they'd sorted out whatever tension was held between them for the past three months. She came to stand next to him. "Who called you down here?" she asked icily.

"Nobody," he admitted. "I came because I wanted to apologise for the way I spoke to you earlier."

"Are you being serious?!" she asked, sounding really quite shocked.

"Is it really so hard to believe?" he challenged with a raised eyebrow. "Apology accepted?" She nodded her head and he asked, "What's wrong?"

"What's _right_?" she gave a short bark of a laugh.

"No, I mean what's bothering you today? Your mood swings have been particularly bad," he enlightened her. She didn't seem all that much surprised, but she clearly didn't like being told it. She beckoned for him to stand so he stood up to stand opposite her. She took his hand and placed it over her slightly raised abdomen.

"I'm showing," she sighed. "It just means I'm going to get bigger and bigger and in a couple of months you won't come near me with a ten foot barge pole," she complained.

He chuckled. "Is that all?!"

"Oi!" she half-shouted, attracting attention from the surrounding unit. "I'll have you know body image is an important to a woman!"

"I know that," he allowed, "but you're pregnant! Of course you're going to put on extra weight and get bigger. You know all this. It's kind of what happens to pregnant women," he explained with mock patronisation. She smiled, and he realised his hand was still lingering on her body when her fingers brushed his chest. They shouldn't have shown such familiarity on the ward but, to be honest, their attitudes towards one another had changed so drastically he would have been more worried if the others hadn't noticed anything between them.

"I'm just remembering being pregnant with Eleanor," she admitted. "My body inflated exponentially."

"And you think I won't want you just because you've put on baby weight?" he remarked. The look on her face said it all – she didn't want to feel unattractive. "Is that why you've been trying to eat as you normally would do rather than what your body wants?" He couldn't help it. He was smiling at her mad logic as she nodded her head, unimpressed by his reaction. "Serena, I couldn't care less if your appearance changes."

"Really?" she asked sceptically. "Even if, in a couple months time, I'm the size of a whale?"

"Really," he insisted. To his surprise, her face broke into a wide grin of relief.

"What would I do without you, hmm?" she said gently as she placed her hand on his face, her fingers caught ever so slightly in his hair. He felt her lips brush his gently, and he responded hesitantly, aware of the many pairs of eyes watching them.

"Well, it's about time," Gemma Wilde commented to Sacha Levy. "They do realise half the hospital has already worked it out, don't they?"

Henrik just smiled into Serena's kiss and pulled her tightly but carefully closer to his body. He broke away from her to find her smiling a genuinely bright grin. He hugged her closely to him and placed a kiss on her forehead. He would never have thought it six months ago, but being put through all of this with her had made him appreciate her better side. Through light and darkness, wholeness and shatteredness, love and trouble, happiness and pain, she had remained alive and determined to stay that way.

As they stood together, lost in each other's embrace, Henrik noticed the ward had come to a standstill in the shock of the two icy bosses kissing openly in public. "Back to work," he ordered them, barely suppressing his smile. "I'd better return to Keller before Nurse Lane and Dr. Digby do anything too silly."

"Christ, you didn't leave Digby in charge, did you?!" she demanded. "He could have burned down the ward by now!"

"Oh, ye of little faith," he sighed, tightening his grip on her once more before he released her. "One day that boy will be a consultant and running his own ward."

"Hopefully not one I'm working on," she snorted. "Thank Chantelle for me. There's no way you would have come down here without her telling you to," she informed him. He nodded and left with nothing more he could say to her. He had honestly thought there had been something seriously wrong with her, but it turned out she was just upset because she was changing shape. Didn't this tell him something? Like maybe he worried about her too much?

He really did feel like an idiot now; after all that worrying, she was fine. "I've got to stop this," he sighed to himself, sinking into the chair at the Keller nurses' station once more.

"Worrying about her?" Chantelle seemed to read his mind. "It's only natural."

"It's not," he replied, reaching up to start sorting out the files Serena had dumped in temper. "I have no right to constantly worry about her."

"And yet you do," she said as she sat down at the second computer. "What does that tell you? You've gone through too much together for you to go back to the way you used to be with each other. You might not admit it, but she means the world to you now. And she would be lost if she didn't have you," she added thoughtfully.

He thought on that for a moment; maybe Chantelle was right. Maybe Serena did mean so much more to him than he had realised. Why else would he worry so much about her? Why else would he want to always look after her like this?

"You know, if you wanted to save months and months of hassle, you could just tell her you love her," Chantelle continued.

"I don't love her," he denied quickly. How could he possibly love Serena Campbell in that kind of way?

"You do," she contradicted. "I saw it last week when you had that row with her outside. She was standing there calling you names and you didn't argue with her. You looked like you just wanted to give her a cuddle." He could recall that particular occasion well. Serena had, in temper, kicked a chair over as she stomped out of AAU and Sacha had sent Henrik after her. He had found her outside, and she had called him for every name under the sun, but he knew she didn't really mean it.

"And I'm afraid that _is_ love, Mr. Hanssen," Chantelle concluded, pulling his thoughts back to the present. She wandered away back to work, apparently oblivious to the cogs she had started turning in his head.

* * *

**Hope this is alright!  
Please feel free to review and tell me your thoughts!  
Sarah x**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Hello! Again, I don't know if this is any good - perhaps the antihistamine has gone to my head since I've ha three times what I should - and I think this might be the penultimate chapter :) thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed so far!**

**Sarah x**

* * *

After a blur of a few months, Serena suddenly, at least to her, found herself sitting in the passenger seat of Hanssen's car, taking stock of everything. It was a week before Christmas, and she was now seven months pregnant and felt the size of an infant blue whale. The year was almost over – she'd spent more than half of it pregnant, a good few months navigating this insanity she found herself dumped in, and months and months falling for Henrik.

"Aren't you sick of splitting your time between your house and mine?" she asked tiredly as she leaned her head against the window. "Well, actually, you're starting to spend more time at my place now."

"Sorry," he replied. "I just tend to lose track of time."

"Don't apologise," she laughed at his reaction. "You have half your clothes lying in my drawers. You have half your paperwork lying in a ridiculously neat pile on my coffee table. You have your insane multitude of books in my bedroom," she listed. "It's subconscious to you now."

"Is it really?" he raised an eyebrow at her before returning his gaze to the road in front of him.

She turned to face him, and said, "Move in with me."

"Don't be silly," he scolded. "How do you think that would work out?" he demanded sarcastically.

"You practically live with me anyway!" she protested. This was when he irritated her. When he dug his heels in even though what she was saying made perfect sense. Well, it did to her, at least.

"Living with Serena Campbell full-time," Hanssen said thoughtfully. "Well, that would be an...interesting venture." She slapped his arm lightly and he smiled a little. "Serena, I would be intruding even more than I am now. Of your two children, neither are mine, and I don't think Eleanor would appreciate it if I were to move into her home."

"She doesn't mind."

"Is that your way of telling me you've already asked her opinion and have been planning this all day?" he challenged her.

"Yes," she admitted, having talked to Eleanor last night about it while Hanssen had slept upstairs. He parked the car in an obviously contemplative silence and opened the passenger door like he usually did so Serena could get out easier.

She sighed, knowing he would decide either way in his own time. She began to get started on dinner as soon as she took her coat off, until Hanssen stopped her. "Go and rest," he ordered her. She raised her eyebrows in defiance. "Eleanor will be back soon. If I need help, I'm sure she's perfectly capable. Go and sit down."

In the knowledge that he would do what he wanted whether she liked it or not, she went through to the living room and sat down on the sofa, switching the television on with a sigh. It didn't even feel like Christmas to her; she was too distracted to notice the Christmas lights on the High Street and the tinsel on Keller she had only learned today that Chantelle had put up a week ago.

Now she thought about it, the Christmas tree was still in the loft. She'd had to use an artificial one ever since Eleanor was born upon discovering her daughter was allergic to the needles that fell off the real ones.

She sat watching the news. Most of it was political nonsense or Christmas nonsense she held very little interest for. When it got to the most Christmas-decorated houses in Britain, she groaned hopelessly and turned it off. "It's not worth the electricity bill," she muttered, recalling the image of the lit up house she had just chased off her television.

The front door opened and shut and Eleanor shouted, "I'm home! And I think it's going to snow!"

She came in to the living room and asked the dreaded question..."Can we put the Christmas tree up?"

"Oh, do we have to, darling?" Serena sighed. It wasn't that she didn't want the Christmas tree up – she did – but she was so tired that she honestly couldn't be bothered with the hassle of it. She saw the look on Eleanor's face and grumbled, "Oh, fine, then. After dinner, OK?" It seemed to appease her because she sauntered happily through to help Henrik finish cooking.

Unable to curb her restlessness, and her stomach suddenly impatient to be filled, she got up and dragged her massive body to the kitchen. She stood silently at the door and watched as Hanssen and Eleanor laughed together.

Smiling, Serena wandered in and stole a handful of grated cheese from a plate when Hanssen wasn't looking, winking at Eleanor when she did so. "What's for dinner then, Masterchef?" she quipped at Hanssen.

"Macaroni cheese," he replied, turning back to face her. "Since you've been craving it every day for the past fortnight," he added, his expression one of cynical amusement, but she also saw a great deal of contemplation there, like he was thinking things over and planning his next actions.

"Oh, I do love you," she moaned as she quickly kissed him, grateful that he was taking her pregnancy madness into account.

He froze for a moment before he answered back, "A simple thank you would have sufficed."

"I know," she shrugged. She spotted the bread lying open on the counter and said the first thought that it brought to her mind, "Toast."

Eleanor just laughed as Henrik managed to slip his arms around her and kissed her neck. "I love you too," he whispered in her ear, just loud enough for her to hear.

"Ugh, get a room," Eleanor snorted.

The normality of the scene suddenly struck her, and Hanssen's words brought tears to her eyes. It seemed a world away from the last time he had his arms around her as she cried in her kitchen. Last time had been agonisingly painful and confused, and though she still did not remember what happened on that trip to Brighton, she felt a sense of a completed circle as he now held her while she cried hormonal and happy tears.

Eleanor rolled her eyes and left them to it while the pasta boiled. Serena laughed when blaring pop music came from the living room; presumably Eleanor had turned on a music channel. "Why are you crying this time?" asked Henrik cautiously.

She looked around to see his face before admitting, "You said you love me. You've not said that before."

She felt stupid now she had said it, and Hanssen's expression did nothing to help that. He smiled and said, "I would agree to move in with you but I fear I might make you cry even more."

Her heart leapt and she demanded, "Are you winding me up?!"

"No, I'm being perfectly serious."

In a moment she turned round and hugged him and, as he had predicted, she was crying quietly to herself. It was the happiest she had felt in seven months. The most at peace she had felt in seven months. The most hopeful she had felt in seven months.

When she pulled away from him, she realised there was something bothering him despite his rare smile. "What's wrong, Henrik?"

"Your child."

"What about it?" she asked, her hand falling instinctively to her ridiculously sized bump.

He sighed and leaned back against the opposite counter top. "Are you actually considering letting this child grow up without a father of any kind?" he asked her, again with caution. "Is that really so wise?"

"Well, I'm definitely not letting _him_ anywhere near any child I give birth to," she replied. She knew he was only being logical and thinking of the child, so she did not bite his head off, but she could not even let herself consider the idea of letting the biological father in about her family.

"I know that, and I completely agree, but a child shouldn't grow up missing either one of their parents. I know that much," he reasoned.

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously as she realised he had an idea he was holding back from her, probably in fear of her reaction. "What are you thinking?" she said. He still looked reluctant, so she added, "Look, I'm all for my kid having a dad so if you've got an idea that doesn't involve that piece if scum, I am all ears."

He went to drain the pasta as he considered his answer, and he only replied halfway through making the sauce. "How would you feel about putting my name on the birth certificate? That way I would be the baby's legal father." He looked around when she was too stunned to speak. "It makes logical sense if I'm to live here, doesn't it? And if you want to explain the truth when they're old enough to understand it...well, you will cross that bridge when you come to it."

"Are...are you serious?" she choked out, her words catching in her throat from the shock of the plan he had devised. Was that what he had been thinking about?! Committing himself to that kind of responsibility was not something he would have taken lightly, and she knew it.

"Deadly so," he replied, pouring the macaroni cheese into bowls.

"You would actually do that?" she repeated, unable to believe what she was hearing. "You would legally commit yourself to being my child's father? _Why_ would you do that?!"

He turned around to face her, and she didn't like the look on his face. "A few reasons," he began. "And don't interrupt me," he warned, probably remembering her tendency to cut through people when they spoke. "Firstly, I love you. We've established that already. Secondly, I do _not_ wish a child to grow up without some kind of father, biological or otherwise. And lastly – and probably selfishly – it's a second chance of sorts for me," he confessed, and she realised whatever he meant when he said it was painful for him to acknowledge.

"When I was younger, and I was with Maja, she fell pregnant," he continued. "The realisation of the commitment involved hit me and I was cowardly enough to leave her before she even gave birth. I refuse to do the same thing again. So if you agree, I want to raise this child as if it were my own," he explained quietly, the effort it took painfully and frighteningly clear on his suddenly solemn face. "It would almost be like I'm proving to myself that I can actually be a decent father rather than the hopeless one I made all those years ago."

He looked like he expected her to fly off the handle at him, but she felt the opposite. Slowly she stepped over to him and pulled him down into a tight cuddle. When she released him, she was astounded to find silent tears rolling down his cheeks. He had been so strong for her, and this was the first time she had seen the deepest cracks he carried.

She wiped his tears away with her fingers and said, "If you want to be my baby's father, and you're serious about it, then I have no problem with it," she assured him. "Why are you crying?"

He smiled and replied, "I told you what an awful coward I am and you hugged me."

"I'm not going to stop loving you just because you made a total arse of a relationship decades ago," she assured him. "I don't think you were right to leave, and it's probably the stupidest thing you've ever done, but it doesn't negate what you've done for me and it definitely does not mean I don't love you!" she insisted.

He gave a short, incredulous laugh. "I'll blame that on the hormones."

"Well, don't bother," she ordered him with a sharp slap to the back of the head as she attempted to knock sense into him.

"Ow!" he protested. Serena met his eyes and they both burst out laughing until she found herself giggling into his chest.

She felt a kick in her belly and immediately took his hand and pressed it to her abdomen so he could feel it too. "Long story, baby, but this moron's your daddy." She looked up at him and added with a cheeky grin, "And if the way he is with the F1s is anything to go by, well, God help you, kid."

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to leave a review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Hello again! This is the final chapter, and it's probably horribly sweet and completely ridiculous but I wanted a happy ending :P Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing, and I hope this doesn't make you puke ;)**

**Sarah x**

* * *

_Five years later..._

Hanssen turned around from his conversation with Chantelle Lane across the nurses' station desk when he heard a cry of, "Daddy!" to find four-year-old Anya running down Keller corridor, her long dark hair flying behind her, her Santa hat falling askew, her mother and sister following with smiles. "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Look what I got you!"

He picked her up as she ran to him, just like he did almost every day. "And what might that be?" he asked her, ignoring the amused looks he knew he was getting, just as he got every time his daughter came onto a ward. She passed up a small net. "Oh, chocolate coins," he smiled. If he thought his daughter would have let him forget it was two days until Christmas Day, he would have tried. "Well, thank you," he said.

He ripped open the net with his teeth and peeled one open, splitting one between himself and Anya. "Daddy, Ellie's home!" she squealed excitedly. "Ellie's home from unresity 'cause it's Christmas!" she emphasised, completely mispronouncing 'university.' She whispered to him, "It's in my pocket."

"I know, darling," he replied, smiling over at Serena and Eleanor as he felt around his daughter's coat pocket for what he had asked her to take with her today. "Thank you," he whispered into her ear.

"Well, I just have to finish off my paperwork and then I can come home," Henrik said to Serena, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

"I'll do it," volunteered Antoine Malick, now a consultant himself. Hanssen turned in surprise so the younger man reiterated, "It's Christmas and you've got a little kid. No brainer."

"Thank you," he replied.

"No problem," he smiled, taking Hanssen's stack of papers before he changed his mind about delegating it. Serena tried to take Anya from Henrik to allow him to collect his belongings, but the girl protested loudly, throwing her arms around his neck and clinging for dear life.

"It's fine," he assured Serena while Chantelle laughed behind them. "I'll put my coat on one way or another. How was the train down here, Eleanor?" he asked. She was studying medicine at Dundee University, and he knew the weather across Scotland had been awful since November.

"Horrible," she replied. "Got stuck at Leuchars and Edinburgh. I hate the snow. Although I had better luck than Siobhan. She lives in Glenrothes and the police shut the bridge at eight this morning. She'll probably have driven right around by Perth to get home, which sucks for her."

"Ah," he said, knowing all too well the tedium of northern winters.

"You're a right little Daddy's girl, aren't you?" Chantelle said, reaching up to ruffle Anya's thick dark brown hair. Chantelle, of course, knew the truth just as everyone else here did, but they all accepted that, in the sense that really mattered, Anya was Henrik's daughter. Hanssen just smiled to himself and kissed Anya's pale forehead.

Serena came to stand beside him with Eleanor on his other side. He took the small box in his hand and opened it where Serena would not be able to see. "I have a question for you, Serena," he said to her.

"Why don't I like the sound of that?" she drawled at him, her impudent sense of humour vastly unchanged.

Rolling his eyes, he ordered her, "Give me your left hand," because his movement was restricted in holding Anya. She hesitated so he said, "Stop being a baby and give me your hand."

She lifted her hand to him and demanded, "What's this question? Let me guess...can we have sushi for tea? Or – did you get some decent chocolate while you were out? Or, did you turn the Christmas lights off before you came out?"

He put the ring he had bought yesterday on her fourth finger as she listed all possible mundane questions he could have asked. When her relentless ranting abruptly stopped, he said, "Will you marry me?"

The look of shock on her face was priceless, and the question had reduced the whole ward to a temporary standstill. "Yes," she whispered. "I must be off my head getting married at this age, but yes!"

"We already know you're off your head, Mum," Eleanor grinned. Hanssen smiled and leaned down to kiss Serena while Anya started clapping her hands happily. To his amazement, everyone else followed suit, both patients and physicians alike. It was only when he broke off their kiss that he saw three familiar figures standing watching, all three grinning.

"Well," Jac Naylor said, carrying in her arms a little red-headed girl who looked almost frighteningly like her mother – Flora Naylor-Maconie – and Jonny Maconie at her side. "I never thought I'd see the day Henrik Hanssen had a family of his own," she smiled.

"Likewise," he raised an eyebrow at her. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," they all replied together as they walked by, presumably to start celebrating Christmas as a family.

"I'll go and bring the car around for you," Eleanor volunteered, and Henrik braced himself for Serena's undoubted reaction.

"Nice try, young lady!" Serena retorted. "Like hell am I letting you drive my car!"

"Oh, come on!" the young woman groaned. "I passed my test in the dead of winter in Angus, for Christ's sake!"

"Yeah, a month ago, on your fourth attempt and in a one litre Corsa, not a two litre diesel BMW," Serena reminded her. Hanssen shook his head to himself at their bickering – if there was one thing that had remained the same, it was the constant squabbling Serena and Eleanor did. Even over the phone, it was amusing to listen to. "No, we'll let Henrik go and get his coat and we'll leave together. And don't you _dare_ take anything work-related home, you hear? Laptop and paperwork stays here over Christmas!" she warned him.

"Yes, ma'am," he sighed. To this day, he still hated not having work to do.

He them Serena and Eleanor niggling at each other, Eleanor still attempting in vain to convince her mother to allow her to drive the car.

The degree to which Eleanor Campbell had grown up since that explosive day she showed up drunk at the hospital made her almost unrecognisable, both in attitude and appearance. She had given up the dark eye make up and the dangerous drinking habits to be replaced with a more adult beauty akin to her mother's and an attitude that somehow got her the grades to study medicine. But Henrik sided with Serena here – he wouldn't let Eleanor drive his car either.

The change in Serena Campbell had been more gradual. She had struggled, to begin with, to get to grips with her second shot at motherhood, but now she was the best mother the girls could have asked for. She had always stayed strong and somehow managed to survive while giving him full credit for it, but he didn't feel like he had done anything notable. The ordeal she had faced, the ordeal that made all of this possible, was both a blessing and a curse: she still had the occasional nightmare about what she could not remember, but mere hours after Anya had been born she had recognised that the only good to come of what happened was the child she had given birth to and the family they had created out of love, pain and friendship.

He wandered to the lift, Anya still in his arms, to collect his things, only putting her down on his desk to put his coat on. He went to pick up his work laptop and briefcase full of papers before reminding himself that Serena would murder home if he took that home at Christmas.

He went into his drawer and took out the two necklaces he had dug out from his mother's possessions – one with a diamond heart and one a sapphire flower – and kept them in his hand as he lifted Anya up again. As they left his office and he pressed the button for the lift, he remembered again how lucky he was and how well everything had turned out. At times he still struggled to comprehend how such horror had created his family.

The change in himself, too, had been gradual and positive. He smiled every day. He got on better with his colleagues, even those he did not particularly like. He loved his family more than he ever dreamt was possible.

When he reached Keller, he sat Anya down on the desk of the nurses' station. He separated the necklaces, and put the diamond heart around Eleanor's neck. "What's this?" she asked him quietly as he put the sapphire one around the youngest's neck.

"These were my mother's," explained Henrik. "And I have a feeling she would have wanted her granddaughters to have them."

"Thank you," the sisters said at the same time. Eleanor hugged him tightly. It didn't bother him anymore. It didn't bother him for everyone to see he was human and loved his family. Why would he even want to hide that? They were a family. Not a typical one, granted, but a family nonetheless.

"You're welcome," he replied, patting her back lightly. She stepped back to her mother's side with a glowing smile, and it struck him just what a brilliant young woman his once-troubled, mouthy and enduring step-daughter had turned into.

"You didn't have to do that," scolded Serena, but the fondness in her dark eyes told him he wasn't really in trouble. In response, he just kissed her jaw and picked Anya up once more – she was going through a phase of refusing to walk if he was there, and it was driving Serena demented. She had given up on trying to force her to walk herself, for now, anyway.

"I love you, Daddy!" Anya said, bringing back him from the past. She said it every day and he never took it for granted. To know this little girl adored him was a gracious blessing he would never forget was just that – a blessing.

"I love you too, baby," he answered her, to her squealing and giggling delight kissing the end of her nose. It brought an identical amusement to Anya's eyes as it did when he did it to Serena. He meant it every time he said it, and he knew that, whatever happened, he would always love this little girl like she was his own.

After all the highs and excruciating lows they had survived together, after the mess their lives had been thrown into and what beauty and grace and love they had salvaged from that wreckage, Serena Campbell was to be his wife, whom he loved like had had loved no other woman in his life.

Eleanor Campbell was to be his step-daughter, whom he had grown to love beyond what he had expected that night he held her in his arms after she forced her mother's secrets out in the open. He felt for her like he did his youngest daughter, and he only hoped she knew he would do anything for her.

Anya Hanssen would always be his little girl, whom he loved like she was his own child, and even though biologically it wasn't true, legally and in his heart it was. Nothing as ordinary and immaterial as biology would change it: she was his baby girl, and he would always love her to bits.

* * *

**Hope this is alright!  
Please feel free to review and tell me your thoughts!  
Sarah x**


End file.
